ILLUSTRIOUS  DAMES 

OF  THE  COURT  OF 

THE 

VALOIS  KINGS 


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KATHARINE  PRESCOTT  WORMELEY 


TRANSLATOR 


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Illustrious  Dames 

of  tke  Court  of 

Tke   Valois   Kings 


by 

PIERRE  DE  BOURDEILLE 

and 

C.-A.  SAINT-BEUVE 


5^' 


I  5  - 


Literally  Translated  by 

KATHARINE  PRESCOTT  WORMELEY 


Illustrated  with  Photogravure*  from 
the  Original  Paintings 


NF.W  YORK 

The  Lamb  Publishing  Co. 

MCMXII 


Copyright  1912  by 

THE  LAMB  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

All  Tiithti  Rettrvtd 


FOREWORD 

About  twelve  years  ago  this  translation  of  the  personal 
recollections  and  records  of  the  Abb6  de  Brantome,  who  has 
been  called  the  ' '  Valet  de  Chambre' '  of  history,  by  Katharine 
Prescott  Wormeley,  was  issued  in  a  most  elaborate  and  ex- 
pensive style.  The  cost  of  translation  and  reproduction  was 
considerable  and  the  work  was  sold  at  a  correspondingly 
high  price,  which  practically  placed  it  beyond  the  reach 
of  the  ordinary  reader. 

The  present  issue,  complete  in  every  respect,  with  all 
the  illustrations  of  the  costly  original  edition,  is  now  pub- 
lished to  meet  the  demand  for  a  less  expensive  form  of  this 
realistic  and  intimate  chronicle  of  the  illustrious  women  of 
the  most  luxurious  European  court  at  the  most  brilliant 
epoch  of  its  existence. 

The  Abbe  left  a  priceless  and  artlessly  written  chronicle 
of  the  Valois  women  who  were  largely  responsible  for  the  ruin- 
ous extravagance  and  the  colossal  crimes  of  the  period.  He 
introduces  us  to  the  crafty  Florentine,  Catharine  de  Medici ; 
her  beautiful  daughters,  Marguerite  de  Valois  and  Elizabeth 
of  Spain  ;  Diane  de  Poitiers,  the  woman  of  perennial  youth 
and  beauty  ;  Jeanne  d'  Albert,  mother  of  Henry  IV,  who  was 
poisoned  by  the  revengeful  Catharine ;  and  others  more  or 
less  prominent,  with  their  attending  satellites. 

It  was  a  time  when  were  sown  the  earUest  seeds  which 
two  centuries  later  blossomed  into  the  Terrors  of  the  French 
Revolution. 
January  1912.  G.  E.  C. 


CONTENTS. 


Paob 

INTRODUCTION 1 

DISCOUESE  I.    Anne  de  Bretagne,  Queen  of  France    ....  25 

Sainte-Beuve's  remarks  upon  her 40 

DISCOURSE  II.    Catherine  de'  Medici,  Queen,  and  mother  of 

our  last  kings 44 

Sainte-Beuve's  remarks  upon  her 86 

DISCOURSE  III.    Marie   Stuart,  Queen  of  Scotland,  formerly 

Queen  of  our  France 89 

Sainte-Beuve's  essay  on  her 121 

DISCOURSE  IV.    :6lisabeth  of  France,  Queen  of  Spain    ...  138 

DISCOURSE    V.    Marguerite,  Queen  of  France  and  of  Navarre, 

sole  daughter  now  remaining  of  the  Noble  House  of  France  152 

Sainte-Beuve's  essay  on  her 193 

DISCOURSE  VI.    Mesdames,  the  Daughters  of  the  Noble  House 
of  France : 

Madame  Yoland 214 

Madame  Jeanne 215 

Madame  Anne 216 

Madame  Claude 219 

Madame  Rene'e 220 

Mesdames  Charlotte,  Louise,  Magdelaine,  Marguerite     ....  223 

Mesdames  Elisabeth,  Claude,  and  Marguerite 229 

Madame  Diane 231 

Marguerite  de  Valois,  Queen  of  Navarre 234 

Sainte-Beuve's  essay  on  the  latter 243 


iv  CONTENTS. 

DISCOUKSE  VII.    Of  Various  Illusteiotts  Ladies:  Paoe 

Isabelle  d'Autriche,  wife  of  Charles  IX 262 

Jeanne  d'Autriche,  wife  of  the  Infante  of  Portugal 270 

Marie  d'Autriche,  wife  of  the  King  of  Hungary 273 

Louise  de  Lorraine,  wife  of  Henri  III 280 

Marguerite  de  Lorraine,  wife  of  the  Due  de  Joyeuse 282 

Christine  of  Denmark,  wife  of  the  Due  de  Lorraine 283 

Marie  d'Autriche,  wife  of  the  Emperor  Maximilian  II.  ....  291 

Blanche  de  Montferrat,  Duchesse  de  Savoie 293 

Catherine  de  Cleves,  wife  of  Henri  I.  de  Lorraine,  Due  de  Guise  297 

Madame  de  Bourdeille 297 


APPENDIX 299 

INDEX 306 


LIST  OF 
PHOTOGRAVURE  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Coronation  of  Marie  de'  Medici Frontispiece 

With  Portraits,  by  Rubens  (Peter  Paul) ;  in  the  Louvre.    See  de- 
scription in  Note  to  the  Discourse. 

FACINa 
PAGK 

Catherine  de'  Medici,  Queen  of  France 44 

School  of  the  sixteenth  century ;  in  the  Louvre. 

Ball  at  the  Court  of  Henri  III 81 

With  Portraits,  attributed  to  Frangois  Clouet ;  in  the  Louvre.  See 
description  in  Note  to  Discourse  VIL 

Marie  Stuart 120 

School  of  the  sixteenth  century ;  Versailles. 

Elisabeth  de  France,  Queen  of  Spain 185 

By  Rubens ;  in  the  Louvre. 

Diane  de  France,  Duchesse  d'Angouleme 233 

School  of  the  sixteenth  century;  in  the  Louvre. 

Isabelle  d'Autriche,  Wife  op  Charles  IX 262 

By  Franjois  Clouet;  in  the  Louvre. 

Louise  de  Lorraine,  Wife  of  Henri  HI 280 

School  of  the  sixteenth  century ;  in  the  Louvre. 


INTRODUCTION.* 

The  title,  "  Vie  des  Dames  lUustres,"  given  habitually  to 
one  volume  of  Brantome's  Works,  is  not  that  which  was 
chosen  by  its  author.  It  was  given  by  his  first  editor  fifty 
years  after  his  death;  Brantome  himself  having  called  his 
work  "The  Book  of  the  Ladies." 

One  of  his  earliest  commentators,  Castelnaud,  almost  a 
cotemporary,  says  of  him  in  his  Memoirs :  — 

"Pierre  de  Bourdeille,  Abb^  de  Brantome,  author  of  vol- 
umes of  which  I  have  availed  myself  in  various  parts  of  this 
history,  used  his  quality  as  one  of  those  warrior  abb^s  who 
were  called  Ablates  Milites  under  the  second  race  of  our 
kings  ;  never  ceasing  for  all  that  to  follow  arms  and  the 
Court,  where  his  services  won  him  the  Collar  of  the  Order  and 
the  dignity  of  gentleman  of  the  Bedchamber  to  the  King. 

"  He  frequented,  with  unusual  esteem  for  his  courage  and 
intelligence,  the  principal  Courts  of  Europe,  such  as  Spain, 
Portugal  (where  the  king  honoured  him  with  his  Order), 
Scotland,  and  those  of  the  Princes  of  Italy.  He  went  to 
Malta,  seeking  an  occasion  to  distinguish  himself,  and  after  that 
lost  none  in  our  wars  of  France.  But,  although  he  managed 
perfectly  all  the  great  captains  of  his  time  and  belonged  to 
them  by  alliance  of  friendship,  fortune  was  ever  contrary  to 

1  Taken  chiefly  from  the  Essays  preceding  the  yarious  editions  of 
Brantome's  works  published  in  tlie  18th  and  19th  centuries ;  some  of  wliich 
are  anonymous  ;  the  more  recent  being  those  of  M.  H.  Vignaud  and  M. 
Henri  Moland.  — Tr.  ^ 


2  INTRODUCTION. 

him  ;  so  that  he  never  obtained  a  position  worthy,  not  of  his 
merits  only,  but  of  a  name  so  illustrious  as  his. 

"  It  was  this  that  made  him  of  a  rather  bad  humour  in  his 
retreat  at  Brantome,  where  he  set  himself  to  compose  his 
books  in  different  frames  of  mind,  according  as  the  persons 
who  recurred  to  his  memory  stirred  his  bile  or  touched  his 
heart.  It  is  to  be  wished  that  lie  had  written  a  discourse  on 
himself  alone,  like  other  seigneurs  of  his  time.  He  would 
then  have  shown  us  much,  if  nothing  were  omitted  in  it ; 
but  perhaps  he  abstained  from  doing  this  in  order  not  to 
declare  his  inclinations  for  the  House  of  Lorraine  at  the  very 
moment  of  the  ruin  of  all  its  schemes ;  for  he  was  greatly 
attached  to  that  house,  and  it  appears  in  various  places  that 
he  had  more  respect  than  affection  for  the  House  of  Bourbon. 
It  was  this  that  made  him  take  part  against  the  Salic  law,  in 
behalf  of  Queen  Marguerite,  whom  he  esteemed  infinitely, 
and  whom  he  saw,  with  regret,  deprived  of  the  Crown  of 
France. 

"  In  many  other  matters  he  gives  out  sentiments  which  have 
more  of  the  courtier  than  the  abb^ ;  indeed  to  be  a  courtier 
was  his  principal  profession,  as  it  still  is  with  the  greater 
part  of  the  abb(?s  of  the  present  day ;  and  in  view  of  this 
quality  we  must  pardon  various  little  liberties  which  would 
be  less  pardonable  in  a  sworn  historian. 

"  I  do  not  speak  of  the  volume  of  the  '  Dames  Galantes '  in 
order  not  to  condemn  the  memory  of  a  nobleman  whose  other 
Works  have  rendered  him  worthy  of  so  much  esteem;  I 
attribute  the  crime  of  that  book  to  the  dissolute  habits  of  the 
Court  of  his  time,  about  which  more  terrible  tales  could  be 
told  than  those  he  relates. 

"  There  is  something  to  complain  of  in  the  method  with 
which  he  writes;  but  perhaps  the  name  of  'Notes'  may 
cover  this  defect.    However  that  may  be,  we  can  gather  from 


INTRODUCTION.  3 

him  much  and  very  important  knowledge  on  our  History ; 
and  France  is  so  indebted  to  him  for  this  labour  that  I  do 
not  hesitate  to  say  that  the  services  of  his  sword  must  yield 
in  value  to  those  of  his  pen.  He  had  much  wit  and  was 
well  read  in  Letters.  In  youth  he  was  very  pleasing ;  but 
I  have  heard  those  who  knew  him  intimately  say  that  the 
griefs  of  his  old  age  lay  heavier  upon  him  than  his  arms,  and 
were  more  displeasing  than  the  toils  and  fatigues  of  war  by 
sea  or  land.  He  regretted  his  past  days,  the  loss  of  friends, 
and  he  saw  nothing  that  could  equal  the  Court  of  the  Valois, 
in  which  he  was  born  and  bred.  .  .  ." 

"  The  family  of  Bourdeille  is  not  only  illustrious  in  tem- 
poral prosperities,  but  it  is  remarkable  throughout  antiquity 
for  the  valour  of  its  ancestors.  King  Charlemagne  held  it 
in  great  esteem,,  which  he  showed  by  choosing,  when  the 
splendid  abbey  of  Brantome  was  founded  in  Pdrigord,  that 
the  Seigneur  de  Bourdeille  should  be  associated  in  that  pious 
work  and  be,  with  him,  the  founder  of  the  Monastery.  He 
therefore  made  him  its  patron,  and  obliged  his  posterity  to 
defend  it  against  all  who  might  molest  the  monks  and  hinder 
them  in  the  enjoyment  of  their  property. 

"  If  we  may  rely  on  ancient  deeds  [pancartes']  still  in  pos- 
session of  this  family,  we  must  accord  it  a  first  rank  among 
those  which  claim  to  be  descended  from  kings,  inasmuch  as 
they  carry  back  its  origin  to  Marcomir,  King  of  France,  and 
Tiloa  Boardelia,  daughter  of  a  king  of  England. 

"The  same  old  deeds  relate  that  Nicanor,  son  of  this  Mar- 
comir, being  appealed  to  by  the  people  of  Aquitaine  to  assist 
them  in  throwing  off  the  Roman  yoke,  and  having  come  with 
an  army  very  near  to  Bordeaux,  was  compelled  to  withdraw 
by  the  violence  of  the  Eomans,  who  were  stronger  than  he, 
and  also  by  a  tempest  that  arose  in  the  sea.  Nicanor  cast 
anchor  at  an  island,  uninhabited  on  account  of  the  wild  be£,itj 


4  INTRODUCTION. 

that  peopled  it,  and  especially  certain  griffins,  animals  with 
four  feet,  and  heads  and  wings  like  eagles. 

"  He  had  no  sooner  set  foot  on  land  with  his  men  than  he 
was  forced  to  fight  these  monsters,  and  after  battling  with 
them  a  long  time,  not  without  loss  of  soldiers,  he  succeeded 
in  vanquishing  them.  With  his  own  hand  he  killed  the 
largest  and  fiercest  of  them  all,  and  cut  off'  his  paws.  This 
victory  greatly  rejoiced  all  the  neighbouring  countries,  which 
had  suffered  much  damage  from  these  beasts. 

"  On  account  of  this  affair,  Nicanor  was  ever  after  surnamed 
'  The  Griffin '  and  honoured  by  every  one,  like  Hercules 
when  he  killed  the  Stymphalides  in  Arcadia,  those  birds  of 
prey  that  feed  on  human  flesh.  This  is  the  origin  of  the 
arms  which  the  Seigneurs  de  Brantome  bear  to  this  day,  to 
wit:  Or,  two  griffins'  paws  gules,  onglde  azure,  counter 
barred." 

Pierre  de  Bourdeille,  third  son  of  Francois,  Vicomte  de 
Bourdeille  and  Anne  de  Vivonne  de  la  Chataignerie,  was 
born  in  the  P^rigord  in  1537,  under  the  reign  of  Frangois  I. 
The  family  of  Bourdeille  is  one  of  the  most  ancient  and 
respected  in  the  P^rigord,  which  province  borders  on  Gas- 
cony  and  echoes,  if  we  may  say  so,  the  caustic  tongue  and 
rambling,  restless  temperaments  that  flourish  on  the  banks  of 
the  Garonne.  "  Not  to  boast  of  myself,"  says  Brantome,  "  I 
can  assert  that  none  of  my  race  have  ever  been  home-keeping ; 
they  have  spent  as  much  time  in  travels  and  wars  as  any,  no 
matter  who  they  be,  in  France." 

As  for  his  father,  Brantome  gives  an  amusing  account  of 
him  as  a  true  Gascon  seigneur.  He  began  Hfe  by  running 
away  from  home  to  go  to  the  wars  in  Italy,  and  roam  the 
world  as  an  adventurer.  He  was,  says  Brantome,  "  a  jovial 
fellow,  who  could  say  his  word  and  talk  familiarly  to  the 


INTRODUCTION.  5 

greatest  personages.**  Pope  Julius  II.  took  a  fancy  to  him. 
"  One  day  they  were  playing  cards  together  and  the  pope 
won  from  my  father  three  hundred  crowns  and  his  horses, 
which  were  very  fine,  and  all  his  equipments.  After  he  had 
lost  all,  he  said  :  '  Chadieu  henit  ! '  (that  was  his  oath  when 
he  was  angry  ;  when  he  was  good-natured  he  swore  :  *  Char- 
don  henit  !  ')  — '  Chadieu  henit  !  pope,  play  me  five  hundred 
crowns  against  one  of  my  ears,  redeemable  in  eight  days.  If 
I  don't  redeem  it  I  '11  give  you  leave  to  cut  it  off,  and  eat  it 
if  you  Hke.'  The  pope  took  him  at  his  word  ;  and  confessed 
afterwards  that  if  my  father  had  not  redeemed  his  ear,  he 
would  not  have  cut  it  off,  but  he  would  have  forced  him  to 
keep  him  company.  They  began  to  play  again,  and  fortune 
willed  that  my  father  won  back  everything  except  a  fine 
courser,  a  pretty  httle  Spanish  horse,  and  a  handsome  mule. 
The  pope  cut  short  the  game  and  would  not  play  any  more. 
My  father  said  to  him  :  '  Hey !  Chadieu  !  pope,  leave  me  my 
horse  for  money  *  (for  he  was  very  fond  of  him)  '  and  keep  the 
courser,  who  will  throw  you  and  break  your  neck,  for  he  is 
too  rough  for  you ;  and  keep  the  mule  too,  and  may  she  rear 
and  break  your  leg ! '  The  pope  laughed  so  he  could  not  stop 
himself.  At  last,  getting  his  breath,  he  cried  out :  *  I  '11  do 
better ;  I  '11  give  you  back  your  two  horses,  but  not  the  mule, 
and  I  '11  give  you  two  other  fine  ones  if  you  wiU  keep  me 
company  as  far  as  Eome  and  stay  with  me  there  two  months  ; 
we  '11  pass  the  time  well,  and  it  shall  not  cost  you  anything.' 
My  father  answered:  '  Chadieu!  pope,  if  you  gave  me  your 
mitre  and  your  cap,  too,  I  would  not  do  it ;  I  would  n't  quit 
my  general  and  my  companions  just  for  your  pleasure. 
Good-bye  to  you,  rascal.'  The  pope  laughed,  while  all  the 
great  captains,  French  and  Italians,  who  always  spoke  so  rev- 
erently to  his  Holiness,  were  amazed  and  laughed  too  at  such 
liberty  of  language.     When  the  pope  was  on  the  point  of 


6  INTRODUCTION. 

leaving,  he  said  to  him, '  Ask  what  you  want  of  me  and  you 
shall  have  it,'  thinking  my  father  would  ask  for  his  horses ; 
but  my  father  did  not  ask  anything,  except  for  a  hcense 
and  dispensation  to  eat  butter  in  Lent,  for  his  stomach  could 
never  get  accustomed  to  olive  and  nut  oiL  The  pope  gave  it 
him  readily,  and  sent  him  a  bull,  which  was  long  to  be  seen 
in  the  archives  of  our  house." 

The  young  Pierre  de  Bourdeille  spent  the  first  years  of 
his  existence  at  the  Court  of  Marguerite  de  Valois,  sister  of 
Francois  I.,  to  whom  his  mother  was  lady-in-waiting.  After 
the  death  of  that  princess  in  1549  he  came  to  Paris  to  begin 
his  studies,  which  he  ended  at  Poitiers  about  the  year  1556. 

Being  the  youngest  of  the  family  he  was  destined  if  not 
for  the  Church  at  least  for  church  benefices,  which  he 
never  lacked  through  life.  An  elder  brother.  Captain  de 
Bourdeille,  a  valiant  soldier,  having  been  killed  at  the  siege 
of  Hesdin  by  a  cannon-ball  which  took  off  his  head  and  the 
arm  that  held  a  glass  of  water  he  was  drinking  on  the  breach, 
King  Henri  II.  desired,  in  recognition  of  so  glorious  a  death, 
to  do  some  favour  to  the  Bourdeille  family  ;  and  the  abbey 
of  Brantome  falling  vacant  at  this  very  time,  he  gave  it  to  the 
young  Pierre  de  BourdeiUe,  then  sixteen  years  old,  who 
henceforth  bore  the  name  of  Seigneur  and  Abbd  de  Brantome, 
abbreviated  after  a  while  to  Brantome,  by  which  name  he  is 
known  to  posterity.  In  a  few  legal  deeds  of  the  period, 
especially  family  documents,  he  is  mentioned  as  "  the  rever- 
end father  in  God,  the  Abb^  de  Brantome." 

Brantome  had  possessed  his  abbey  about  a  year  when  he 
began  to  dream  of  going  to  the  wars  in  Italy ;  this  was  the 
high-road  to  glory  for  the  young  French  nobles,  ever  since 
Charles  A^III.  had  shown  them  the  way.  Brantome  obtained 
from  Francois  I.  permission  to  cut  timber  in  the  forest  of 
Saint-Trieix ;  this  cut  brought  him  in  five  hundred  golden 


INTRODUCTION.  7 

crowns,  with  which  he  departed  in  1558,  "bearing,"  he  says, 
"  a  matchlock  arquebuse,  a  fine  powder-horn  from  Milan, 
and  mounted  on  a  hackney  worth  a  hundred  crowns,  fol- 
lowed by  six  or  seven  gentlemen,  soldiers  themselves,  well 
set-up,  armed  and  mounted  the  same,  but  on  good  stout 
nags." 

He  went  first  to  Geneva,  and  there  he  saw  the  Calvinist 
emigration;  continuing  his  way  he  stayed  at  Milan  and 
Ferrara,  reaching  Rome  soon  after  the  death  of  Paul  IV. 
There  he  was  welcomed  by  the  Grand-Prior  of  France, 
FrauQois  de  Guise,  who  had  brought  his  brother,  the  Cardinal 
of  Lorraine,  to  assist  in  the  election  of  a  new  pontifif. 

This  was  the  epoch  of  the  Renaissance,  —  that  epoch  when 
the  knightly  king  made  all  Europe  resound  with  the  fame 
of  his  amorous  and  warlike  prowess ;  when  Titian  and 
Primaticcio  were  leaving  on  the  walls  of  palaces  their  im- 
mortal handiwork;  when  Jean  Goujon  was  carving  his 
figures  on  the  fountains  and  the  facades  of  the  Louvre; 
when  Rabelais  was  inciting  that  mighty  roar  of  laughter 
which,  in  itself,  is  a  whole  human  comedy ;  when  the  Mar- 
guerite of  Marguerites  was  teUing  in  her  "Heptameron" 
those  charming  tales  of  love.  Francois  L  dies  ;  his  son  suc- 
ceeds him ;  Protestantism  makes  serious  progress.  Mont- 
gomery kills  Henri  II.,  and  Frangois  II.  ascends  the  throne 
only  to  hve  a  year ;  and  then  it  is  that  Marie  Stuart  leaves 
France,  the  tears  in  her  eyes,  sadly  singing  as  the  beloved 
shores  over  which  she  had  reigned  so  short  a  while  re- 
cede from  sight:  "FareweU,  my  pleasant  land  of  France, 
farewell ! " 

Returning  to  France  without  any  warrior  fame  but  closely 
attached  by  this  time  to  the  Guises,  Brantome  took  to  a 
Court  life.  He  assisted  in  a  tournament  between  the  grand- 
prior,  Frangois  de  Guise,  disguised  as  an  Egyptian  woman, 


8  INTRODUCTION. 

"  having  on  her  arm  a  little  monkey  swaddled  as  an  infant, 
which  kept  its  baby  face  there  is  no  telling  how,"  and  M.  de 
Nemours,  dressed  as  a  bourgeoise  housekeeper  wearing  at 
her  belt  more  than  a  hundred  keys  attached  to  a  thick  silver 
chain.  He  witnessed  the  terrible  scene  of  the  execution  of 
the  Huguenot  nobles  at  Amboise  (March,  1560);  was  at 
Orleans  when  the  Prince  de  Cond^  was  arrested,  and  at 
Poissy  for  the  reception  of  the  Knights  of  Saint-Michel. 
In  short,  he  was  no  more  "  home-keeping  "  in  France  than  in 
foreign  parts. 

Charles  IX.,  then  about  ten  years  old,  succeeded  his  brother 
Frangois  II.  in  December,  1560.  The  following  year  Due 
FranQois  de  Guise  was  commissioned  to  escort  his  niece, 
Marie  Stuart,  to  Scotland.  Brantome  went  with  them,  saw 
the  threatening  reception  given  to  the  queen  by  her  sullen 
subjects,  and  then  returned  with  the  duke  by  way  of  Eng- 
land. In  London,  Queen  Elizabeth  greeted  them  most 
graciously,  deigning  to  dance  more  than  once  with  Due 
FranQois,  to  whom  she  said :  "  Monsieur  mon  prieur "  (that 
was  how  she  called  him)  "  I  like  you  very  much,  but  not 
your  brother,  who  tore  my  town  of  Calais  from  me." 

Brantome  returned  to  France  at  the  moment  when  the 
edict  of  Saint-Germain  granting  to  Protestants  the  exercise 
of  their  religion  was  promulgated,  and  he  was  struck  by 
the  change  of  aspect  presented  by  the  Court  and  the  whole 
nation.  The  two  armed  parties  were  face  to  face ;  the  Cal- 
vinists,  scarcely  escaped  from  persecution,  seemed  certain  of 
approaching  triumph ;  the  Prince  de  Cond6,  with  four  hun- 
dred gentlemen,  escorted  the  preachers  to  Charenton  through 
the  midst  of  a  quivering  population.  "  Death  to  papists !  "  — 
the  very  cry  Brantome  had  first  heard  on  landing  in  Scot- 
land., where  it  sounded  so  ill  to  his  ears  —  was  beginnincr 
to  be  heard  in  France,  to  which  the  cry  of  "  Death  to  the 


INTRODUCTION.  9 

Huguenots!"  responded  in  the  breasts  of  an  irritated  popu- 
lace. Brantome  did  not  hesitate  as  to  the  side  he  should 
take,  —  he  was  abb6,  and  attached  to  the  Guises  ;  he  fought 
through  the  war  with  them,  took  part  in  the  sieges  of  Blois, 
Bourges,  and  Eouen,  was  present  at  the  battle  of  Dreux, 
where  he  lost  his  protector  the  grand-prior,  and  attached 
himself  henceforth  to  FranQois  de  Guise,  the  elder,  whom 
he  followed  to  the  siege  of  Orldans  in  1563,  where  the  duke 
was  assassinated  by  Poltrot  de  Mer^  under  circumstances 
which  Brantome  has  vividly  described  in  his  chapter  on  that 
great  captain. 

In  1564  BrantSme  entered  the  household  of  the  Due 
d'Anjou  (afterwards  Henri  III.)  as  gentleman-in-waiting  to 
tlie  prince,  on  a  salary  of  six  hundred  livres  a  year.  But, 
being  seized  again  by  his  passion  for  distant  expeditions,  he 
engaged  during  the  same  year  in  an  enterprise  conducted 
by  Spaniards  agamst  the  Emperor  of  Morocco,  and  went 
with  the  troops  of  Don  Garcia  of  Toledo  to  besiege  and  take 
the  towns  on  the  Barbary  coast.  He  returned  by  way  of 
Lisbon,  pleased  the  king  of  Portugal,  Sebastiano,  who  con- 
ferred upon  him  his  Order  of  the  Christ,  and  went  from 
there  to  Madrid,  where  Queen  Elisabeth  gave  him  the  cordial 
welcome  on  which  he  plumes  himself  in  his  Discourse  upon 
that  princess.  He  was  commissioned  by  her  to  carry  to 
her  mother,  Catherine  de'  Medici,  the  desire  she  felt  to  have 
an  interview  with  her;  which  interview  took  place  at 
Bayonne,  Brantome  not  failing  to  be  present. 

In  that  same  year,  1565,  Sultan  Suleiman  attacked  the 
island  of  Malta.  The  grand-master  of  the  Knights  of  Saint- 
John,  Parisot  de  La  Valette,  calle'd  for  the  help  of  all  Chris- 
tian powers.  The  French  government  had  treaties  with  the 
Ottoman  Porte  which  did  not  allow  it  to  come  openly  to 
the  assistance  of  the  Knights ;  but  many  gentlemen,  both 


10  INTRODUCTION. 

Catholic  and  Protestant,  took  part  as  volunteers.  Among 
them  went  Brantome,  naturally.  "  We  were,"  he  says,  "  about 
three  hundred  gentlemen  and  eight  hundred  soldiers.  ]VL 
de  Strozzi  and  M.  de  Bussac  were  with  us,  and  to  them  we 
deferred  our  own  wills.  It  was  only  a  little  troop,  but  as 
active  and  vaUant  as  ever  left  France  to  fight  the  Infidel." 

While  at  Malta  he  seems  to  have  had  a  fancy  to  enter 
the  Order  of  the  Knights  of  Saint-John,  but  Philippe  Strozzi 
dissuaded  him.  "  He  gave  me  to  understand,"  says  Bran- 
tome,  "  that  I  should  do  WTong  to  abandon  the  fine  fortune 
that  awaited  me  in  France,  whether  from  the  hand  of  my 
king,  or  from  that  of  a  beautiful,  virtuous  lady,  and  rich,  to 
whom  I  was  just  then  servant  and  welcome  guest,  so  that  I 
had  hope  of  marrying  her." 

He  left  Malta  on  a  galley  of  the  Order,  intending  to  go 
to  Naples,  according  to  a  promise  he  had  made  to  the  "  beau- 
tiful and  virtuous  lady,"  the  Marchesa  del  Vasto.  But  a 
contrary  wind  defeated  his  project,  which  he  did  not  re- 
nounce without  regret.  In  after  years  he  considered  this 
mischance  a  strong  feature  in  his  unfortunate  destiny.  "  It 
was  possible,"  he  says,  "  that  by  means  of  Mme.  la  marquise 
I  might  have  encountered  good  luck,  either  by  marriage  or 
otherwise,  for  she  did  me  the  kindness  to  love  me.  But  I 
believe  that  my  unhappy  fate  was  resolved  to  bring  me  back 
to  France,  where  never  did  fortune  smile  upon  me ;  I  have 
always  been  duped  by  vain  expectations ;  I  have  received 
much  honour  and  esteem,  but  of  property  and  rank,  none 
at  all.  Companions  of  mine  who  would  have  been  proud 
had  I  deigned  to  speak  to  them  at  Court  or  in  the  chamber 
of  the  king  or  queen,  have  long  been  advanced  before  me  ; 
I  see  them  round  as  pumpkins  and  highly  exalted,  though 
I  will  not,  for  all  that,  defer  to  them  to  the  length  of  my 
thumb-naiL     That   proverb,   '  Xo   one  is  a  prophet  in   his 


INTRODUCTION.  11 

own  country/  was  made  for  me.  If  I  had  served  foreign 
sovereigns  as  I  have  my  own  I  should  now  be  as  loaded 
with  wealth  and  dignities  as  I  am  with  sorrows  and  years. 
Patience !  if  Fate  has  thus  woven  my  days,  I  curse  her  !  If 
my  princes  have  done  it,  I  send  them  aU  to  the  devil,  if  they 
are  not  there  already." 

But  when  he  started  from  Malta  Brantome  was  still 
young,  being  then  only  twenty-eight  years  of  age.  "  Jog- 
ging, meandering,  vagabondizing,"  as  he  says,  he  reached 
Venice ;  there  he  thought  of  going  into  Hungary  in  search 
of  the  Turks,  whom  he  had  not  been  able  to  meet  in  Malta. 
But  the  death  of  Sultan  Suleiman  stopped  the  invasion  for 
one  year  at  least,  and  Brantome  reluctantly  decided  to  return 
to  France,  passing  through  Piedmont,  where  he  gave  a  proof 
of  his  disinterestedness,  which  he  relates  in  his  sketch  of 
Marguerite,  Duchesse  de  Savoie. 

Beaching  his  own  land  he  found  the  war  he  had  been  so 
far  to  seek  without  encountering  it ;  whereupon  he  recruited 
a  company  of  foot-soldiers,  and  took  part  in  the  third  civil 
war  with  the  title  of  commander  of  two  companies,  though 
in  fact  there  was  but  one.  Shortly  after  this  he  resigned 
his  command  to  serve  upon  the  staff  of  Monsieur,  com- 
mander-in-chief of  the  royal  army.  After  the  battle  of 
Jarnac  (March  15,  1569),  being  sick  of  an  intermittent  fever, 
he  retired  to  his  abbey,  where  his  presence  throughout  the 
troubles  was  far  from  useless.  But  always  more  eager  for 
distant  expeditions  than  for  the  dulness  of  civil  war,  Bran- 
tome let  himself  be  tempted  by  a  grand  project  of  Mardchal 
Strozzi,  who  dreamed  of  nothmg  less  than  a  descent  on 
South  America  and  the  conquest  of  Peru.  Brantome  was 
commissioned  in  1571  to  go  to  the  port  of  Brouage  and 
direct  the  preparations  for  the  armament.  It  was  this  en- 
terprise that  prevented  him  from  being  present  at  the  battle 


12  INTRODUCTION. 

of  Lepanto  (October  7,  1571).  "I  should  have  gone  there 
resolutely,  as  did  that  brave  M.  de  Grillon,"  he  says,  "  if  it 
had  not  been  for  M.  de  Strozzi,  who  amused  me  a  whole 
year  with  that  fine  embarkation  at  Brouage,  which  ended 
in  nothing  but  the  ruin  of  our  purses,  —  to  those  of  us  at 
least  who  owned  the  vessels."  But  if  the  duties  which  kept 
him  at  Brouage  robbed  him  of  the  glory  of  being  present  at 
the  greatest  battle  of  the  age,  it  also  saved  him  from  being 
a  witness  of  the  Saint  Bartholomew. 

The  treaty  of  June  24,  1573,  put  an  end  to  the  siege  of 
Eochelle  and  the  fourth  civil  war.  Charles  IX.  died  on 
May  30,  1574.  Monsieur,  elected  the  year  before  to  the 
throne  of  Poland,  was  in  that  distant  country  when  the 
death  of  his  brother  made  him  king  of  France.  He  has- 
tened to  return.  BrantOme  went  to  meet  him  at  Lyons 
and  was  one  of  the  gentlemen  of  his  Bedchamber  from  1575 
to  1583.  During  the  years  just  passed  Brantome,  besides  the 
principal  events  already  named  in  which  he  participated, 
took  part  in  various  little  or  great  events  in  the  daily  hfe 
of  the  Court,  such  as :  the  quarrel  of  Sussy  and  Saint-Fal, 
the  splendid  disgrace  of  Bussy  d'Amboise,  the  death  and 
obsequies  of  Charles  IX.,  the  coronation  of  Henri  III.,  etc. 
Throughout  them  all  he  played  the  part  of  interested 
spectator,  of  active  supernumerary  without  importance  5 
discontented  at  times  and  sulky,  but  always  unable  to  make 
himself  feared. 

The  years  went  by  in  this  sterile  round.  He  was  now 
thirty-five  years  old.  The  hope  of  a  great  fortune  was 
realized  no  more  on  the  side  of  his  king  than  on  that  of  his 
beautiful,  virtuous,  and  rich  lady.  He  is,  no  doubt,  "  liked, 
known,  and  made  welcome  by  the  kings,  his  masters,  by  his 
queens  and  his  princesses,  and  all  the  great  seigneurs,  who  held 
him  in  such  esteem  that  the  name  of  Brantome  had  great 


INTRODUCTION.  13 

reno-wn."  But  lie  is  not  satisfied  with  the  Court  small- 
change  in  which  his  services  are  paid.  He  is  vexed  that 
his  own  lightheartedness  is  taken  at  its  word ;  he  would  be 
very  glad  indeed  if  that  love  of  liberty  with  which  he 
decked  himself  were  put  to  greater  trials.  Philosopher  in 
spite  of  himself,  he  finds  his  disappointments  all  the  more 
painful  because  of  his  own  opinion  of  his  merits.  He  sees 
men  to  whom  he  believes  himself  superior,  preferred  before 
him.  "  His  companions,  not  equal  to  him,"  he  says  in  the 
epitaph  he  composed  for  himself,  "  surpassed  him  in  benefits 
received,  in  promotions  and  ranks,  but  never  in  virtue  or 
in  merit."  And  he  adds,  with  posthumous  resignation: 
"  God  be  praised  nevertheless  for  all,  and  for  his  sacred 
mercy ! " 

Meantime,  perchance  a  queen,  Catherine  de'  Medici  or 
Marguerite  de  Valois,  deigns  to  drop  into  his  ear  some  trifling 
word  which  he  relishes  with  delight.  Henri  de  Guise  \le 
Balafrd],  who  was  ten  years  younger  than  himself,  called  him 
"  my  son ; "  and  the  Baron  de  Montesquieu,  the  one  that 
killed  the  Prince  de  Cond^  at  Jarnac  and  was  very  much 
older  than  Brantome,  who  had  pulled  him  out  of  the  water 
during  certain  aquatic  games  on  the  Seine,  called  him 
"father."  Such  were  the  familiarities  with  which  he  was 
treated. 

He  was,  it  is  true,  chevalier  of  the  Order  of  Saint-Michel, 
but  that  was  not  enough  to  console  his  ambition.  He  com- 
plained that  they  degraded  that  honour,  no  longer  reserved 
to  the  nobility  of  the  sword.  He  thinks  it  bad,  for  instance, 
that  it  was  granted  to  his  neighbour,  Michel  de  Montaigne. 
"  We  have  seen,"  he  says,  "  counsellors  coming  from  the 
courts  of  parliament,  abandoning  robes  and  the  square  cap  to 
drag  a  sword  behmd  them,  and  at  once  the  king  decks  them 
with  the  collar,  without  any  pretext  of  their  going  to  war. 


14  INTRODUCTION. 

This  is  what  was  given  to  the  Sieur  de  Montaigne,  who 
would  have  done  much  better  to  continue  to  write  his  Essays 
instead  of  changing  his  pen  into  a  sword,  which  does  not  suit 
him.  The  Marquis  de  Trans  obtained  the  Order  very  easily 
from  the  king  for  one  of  his  neighbours,  no  doubt  in  derision, 
for  he  is  a  great  joker."  Brantome  always  speaks  very 
slightingly  of  Montaigne  because  the  latter  was  of  lesser 
nobility  than  his  own  ;  but  that  does  not  prevent  the  Sieur 
de  Montaigne  from  being  to  our  eyes  a  much  greater  man 
than  the  Seigneur  de  Brantome. 

Brantome  continued  to  follow  the  Court.  He  accompanied 
the  queen-mother  when  she  went  in  1576  to  Poitou  to  bring 
back  the  Due  d'Alengon,  who  was  dabbling  in  plots.  He 
accompanied  her  again  when  she  conducted  in  1578  her 
daughter  Marguerite  to  Navarre ;  and  at  their  solemn  entry 
into  Bordeaux  he  had  the  honour  of  being  near  them  on  the 
"  scaffold,"  or,  as  we  should  say  in  the  present  day,  the  plat- 
form. He  had  also  the  luck  to  hear  at  Saint-Germain-en- 
Laye  King  Henri  III.  make  during  his  dinner,  in  presence  of 
the  Due  de  Joyeuse  (on  whose  nuptials  the  fluent  monarch 
was  destined  to  spend  a  million),  a  discourse  worthy  of  Cato 
against  luxury  and  extravagance. 

In  1582,  his  elder  brother,  Andre  de  Bourdeille,  seneschal 
and  governor  of  the  Perigord,  died.  He  left  a  son  scarcely 
nine  years  old.  Brantome  had  obtained  from  King  Henri  III. 
a  promise  that  he  should  hold  those  offices  until  the  majority 
of  his  nephew,  on  condition  of  transmitting  them  at  that 
time.  The  king  confirmed  this  promise  on  several  occasions 
during  the  last  illness  of  Andrd  de  Bourdeille.  But  at  the 
latter's  death  it  was  discovered  that  he  had  bound  himself  in 
his  daughter's  marriage  contract  to  resign  those  offices  to  his 
son-in-law.  The  king  considered  that  he  ought  to  respect 
this  family  arrangement.     Brantome  was  keenly  hurt.     "  On 


INTRODUCTION.  15 

the  second  day  of  the  year,"  he  says,  "  as  the  king  was 
returning  from  his  ceremony  of  the  Saint-Esprit,  I  made  my 
complaint  to  him,  more  in  anger  than  to  implore  him,  as  he 
well  understood.  He  made  me  excuses,  although  he  was  my 
king.  Among  other  reasons  he  said  plainly  that  he  could 
not  refuse  that  resignation  when  presented  to  him,  or  he 
should  be  unjust.  I  made  him  no  reply,  except :  '  Well,  sire, 
I  ought  not  to  have  put  faith  in  you ;  a  good  reason  never  to 
serve  you  again  as  I  have  served  you.'  On  which  I  went 
away  much  vexed.  I  met  several  of  my  companions,  to 
whom  I  related  everything.  I  protested  and  swore  that  if 
I  had  a  thousand  lives  not  one  would  I  employ  for  a  King  of 
France.  I  cursed  my  luck,  I  cursed  life,  I  loathed  the  king's 
favour,  I  despised  with  a  curling  lip  those  beggarly  fellows 
loaded  with  royal  favours  who  were  in  no  wise  as  worthy  of 
them  as  I.  Hanging  to  my  belt  was  the  gilt  key  to  the  king's 
bedroom ;  I  unfastened  it  and  flung  it  from  the  Quai  des 
Augustins,  where  I  stood,  into  the  river  below.  I  never  again 
entered  the  king's  room ;  I  abhorred  it,  and  I  swore  never  to 
set  foot  in  it  any  more.  I  did  not,  however,  cease  to  frequent 
the  Court  and  to  show  myself  in  the  room  of  the  queen,  who 
did  me  the  honour  to  like  me,  and  in  those  of  her  ladies  and 
maids  of  honour  and  of  the  princesses,  seigneurs,  and  princes, 
my  good  friends.  I  talked  aloud  about  my  displeasure,  so 
that  the  king,  hearing  of  what  I  said,  sent  me  a  few  words 
by  M.  du  Halde,  his  head  valet  de  chamhre.  I  contented 
myself  with  answering  that  I  was  the  king's  most  obedient, 
and  said  no  more." 

Monsieur  (the  Due  d'Alengon)  took  notice  of  Brantome, 
and  made  him  his  chamberlain.  About  this  time  it  was  that 
he  began  to  compose  for  this  prince  the  "  Discourses  "  after- 
wards made  into  a  book  and  called  "  Vies  des  Dames 
Galantes,"  which  he  dedicated  to  the  Due  d'Alengon.     The 


16  INTRODUCTION. 

latter  died  in  1584,  —  a  loss  that  dashed  once  more  the  hopes 
of  Brantome  and  of  others  who,  like  him,  had  pinned  their 
faith  upon  that  prince.  After  all,  BrantOme  had  some  reason 
to  complain  of  his  evil  star. 

Then  it  was  that  Brantome  meditated  vast  and  even 
criminal  projects,  which  he  himself  has  revealed  to  us :  "I 
resolved  to  sell  the  little  property  I  possessed  in  France  and 
go  off  and  serve  that  great  King  of  Spain,  very  illustrious 
and  noble  remunerator  of  services  rendered  to  him,  not  com- 
pelling his  servitors  to  importune  him,  but  done  of  his  own 
free  will  and  wise  opinion,  and  out  of  just  consideration. 
Wliereupon  I  reflected  and  ruminated  within  myself  that  I 
was  able  to  serve  him  well ;  for  there  is  not  a  harbour  nor 
a  seaport  from  Picardy  to  Bayonne  that  I  do  not  know  per- 
fectly, except  those  of  Bretagne  which  I  have  not  seen ;  and 
I  know  equally  well  all  the  weak  spots  on  the  coast  of  Lan- 
guedoc  from  Grasse  to  Provence.  To  make  myself  sure  of 
my  facts,  I  had  recently  made  a  new  tour  to  several  of  the 
towns,  pretending  to  wish  to  arm  a  ship  and  send  it  on  a 
voyage,  or  go  myself.  In  fact,  I  had  played  my  game  so 
well  that  I  had  discovered  half  a  dozen  towns  on  these 
coasts  easy  to  capture  on  their  weak  sides,  which  I  knew 
then  and  which  I  still  know,  I  therefore  thought  I  could 
serve  the  King  of  Spain  in  these  directions  so  well  that  I 
might  count  on  obtaining  the  reward  of  great  wealth  and 
dignities.  But  before  I  banished  myself  from  France  T 
proposed  to  sell  my  estates  and  put  the  money  in  a  bank  of 
Spain  or  Italy.  I  also  proposed,  and  I  discoursed  of  it  to 
the  Comte  de  La  Rochefoucauld,  to  ask  leave  of  absence 
from  the  king  that  I  might  not  be  called  a  deserter,  and  to 
be  relieved  of  my  oath  as  a  subject  in  order  to  go  wherever 
I  should  find  myself  better  off  tlian  in  his  kingdom.  I  be- 
lieve he  could  not  have  refused  my  retj^uest ;  because  every- 


INTRODUCTION.  17 

one  is  free  to  change  his  country  and  choose  another.  But 
however  that  might  be,  if  he  had  refused  me  I  should  have 
gone  all  the  same,  neither  more  nor  less  like  a  valet  who  is 
angry  with  his  master  and  wants  to  leave  him ;  if  the  latter 
will  not  give  him  leave  to  go,  it  is  not  reprehensible  to  take 
it  and  attach  himself  to  another  master." 

Thus  reasoned  BrantOme.  He  returns  on  several  occa- 
sions to  these  lawless  opinions;  he  argues,  apropos  of  the 
Conn^table  de  Bourbon  and  La  Noue,  against  the  scruples 
of  those  who  are  willing  to  leave  their  country,  but  not  to 
take  up  arms  against  her.  "  I'faith ! "  he  cries,  "  here  are 
fine,  scrupulous  philosophers !  Their  quartan  fevers  !  While 
I  hold  shyly  back,  pray  who  will  feed  me  ?  Whereas  if  I 
bare  my  sword  to  the  wind  it  will  give  me  food  and  magnify 
my  fame." 

Such  ideas  were  current  in  those  days  among  the  nobles, 
in  whom  the  patriotic  sentiment,  long  subordinated  to  that  of 
caste,  was  only  developed  later.  These  projects  of  treachery 
should  therefore  not  be  judged  altogether  with  the  severity 
of  modern  ideas.  Besides,  BrantOme  is  working  himself 
up ;  it  does  not  belong  to  every  one  to  produce  such  grand 
disasters  as  these  he  meditates.  Moreover,  thought  is  far 
from  action;  events  may  intervene.  People  call  them  fate 
or  chance,  but  chance  will  often  simply  aid  the  secret  im- 
pulses of  conscience,  and  bind  our  will  to  that  it  chooses. 

"  Fine  Imman  schemes  I  made  !  "  Brantome  resumes.  "  On 
the  very  point  o£  their  accomplishment  the  war  of  the 
League  broke  out  and  turmoiled  things  in  such  a  way  that 
no  one  would  buy  lands,  for  every  man  had  trouble  enough 
to  keep  what  he  owned,  neither  would  he  strip  himself  of 
money.  Those  who  had  promised  to  buy  my  property  ex- 
cused themselves.  To  go  to  foreign  parts  without  resources 
was  madness,  —  it  would  only  have  exposed  me  to  all  sorts 

2 


18  INTRODUCTION. 

of  misery ;  I  had  too  much  experience  to  commit  that  folly. 
To  complete  the  destruction  of  my  designs,  one  day,  at  the 
height  of  my  vigor  and  jollity,  a  miserable  horse,  whose 
white  skin  might  have  warned  me  of  nothing  good,  reared 
and  fell  over  upon  me  breaking  and  crushing  my  loins,  so 
that  for  four  years  I  lay  in  my  bed,  maimed,  impotent  in 
every  limb,  unable  to  turn  or  move  without  torture  and  all 
the  agony  in  the  world ;  and  since  then  my  health  has  never 
been  what  it  once  was.  Thus  man  proposes,  and  God  dis- 
poses. God  does  all  things  for  the  best !  It  is  possible  that 
if  I  had  reaUzed  my  plans  I  should  have  done  more  harm 
to  my  country  than  the  renegade  of  Algiers  did  to  his ;  and 
because  of  it,  I  might  have  been  perpetually  cursed  of  God 
and  man." 

Consequently,  this  great  scheme  remained  a  dream;  no 
one  need  ever  have  known  anything  about  it  if  Brantome 
himself  had  not  taken  pains  to  inform  us  of  it  with  much 
complacency. 

The  cruel  fall  which  stopped  his  guilty  projects  must  nave 
occurred  in  1585.  At  the  end  of  three  years  and  a  half  of 
suffering  he  met,  he  tells  us,  "  with  a  very  great  personage 
and  operator,  called  M.  Saint-Christophe,  whom  God  raised 
up  for  my  good  and  cure,  who  succeeded  in  relieving  me 
after  many  other  doctors  had  failed."  As  soon  as  he  was 
nearly  well  he  began  once  more  to  travel.  It  does  not  appear 
that  he  frequented  the  Court  after  the  death  of  Catherine  de' 
Medici,  which  took  place  in  January,  1589  ;  but  he  was 
present,  in  that  year,  at  the  baptism  of  the  posthumous  son 
of  Henri  de  Guise,  whom  the  Parisians  adopted  after  the 
father's  murder  at  Blois,  and  named  Paris.  Agrippa  dAu- 
bignd,  in  his  caricature  of  the  Procession  of  the  League,  gives 
Brantome  a  small  place  as  bearer  of  bells.  But  was  he  really 
there?    It  seems  doubtful ;  he  makes  somewhere  the  judicious 


INTRODUCTION.  1& 

reflection  that :  "  One  may  well  be  surprised  that  so  many 
French  nobles  put  themselves  on  the  side  of  the  League,  for 
if  it  had  got  the  upper  hand  it  is  very  certain  that  the  clergy 
would  have  deprived  them  of  church  property  and  wiped 
their  lips  forever  of  it,  which  result  would  have  cut  the 
wings  of  their  extravagance  for  a  very  long  while."  The 
secular  Abb^  de  Brantome  had  therefore  as  good  reasons  for 
not  being  a  Leaguer  as  for  not  being  a  Huguenot. 

In  1590  he  went  to  make  his  obeisance  to  Marguerite, 
Queen  of  Navarre,  then  confined  in  the  Chateau  d'Usson  in 
Auvergne.  He  presented  to  her  his  "  discourse  "  on  "  Spanish 
Ehodomontades,"  perhaps  also  a  first  copy  of  the  life  of  that 
princess  (which  appears  in  this  volume),  and  he  also  showed 
her  the  titles  of  the  other  books  he  had  composed.  He  was 
so  enchanted  with  the  greeting  Queen  Marguerite,  la  Eeine 
Margot,  gave  him,  "  the  sole  remainiag  daughter  of  the  noble 
house  of  France,  the  most  beautiful,  most  noble,  grandest, 
most  generous,  most  magnanimous,  and  most  accomplished 
princess  in  the  world"  (when  Brantome  praises  he  does 
not  do  it  by  halves),  that  he  promised  to  dedicate  to  her 
the  entire  collection  of  his  works,  —  a  promise  he  faithfully 
fulfilled. 

His  health,  now  decidedly  affected,  confined  more  and 
more  to  his  own  home  this  indefatigable  rover,  who  had,  as 
he  said,  "  the  nature  of  a  minstrel  who  prefers  the  house  of 
others  to  his  own."  Condemned  to  a  sedentary  life,  he  used 
his  activity  as  he  could.  He  caused  to  be  built  the  noble 
castle  of  Eichemont,  with  much  pains  and  at  great  expense. 
He  grew  quarrelsome  and  litigious  ;  brought  suits  against  his 
relations,  against  his  neighbours,  against  his  monks,  whom 
he  accused  of  ingratitude.  By  his  will  he  bequeathed  his 
lawsuits  to  his  heirs,  and  forbade  each  and  all  to  compromise 
them. 


20  INTRODUCTION. 

Difficult  to  live  with,  soured,  dissatisfied  with  the  world, 
he  was  not,  it  would  seem,  in  easy  circumstances.  He  did 
not  spare  posterity  the  recital  of  his  plaints :  "  Favours,  gran- 
deurs, boasts,  and  vanities,  all  the  pleasant  things  of  the  good 
old  days  are  gone  like  the  wind.  Nothing  remains  to  me  but 
to  have  been  all  that;  sometimes  that  memory  pleases  me, 
and  sometimes  it  vexes  me.  Nearing  a  decrepit  old  age,  the 
worst  of  all  woes,  nearing,  too,  a  poverty  which  cannot  be 
cured  as  in  our  flourishing  years  when  nought  is  impossible, 
repenting  me  a  hundred  thousand  times  for  the  fine  extrava- 
gances I  committed  in  other  days,  and  regretting  I  did  not 
save  enough  then  to  support  me  now  in  feeble  age,  when  I 
lack  all  of  which  I  once  possessed  too  much,  —  I  see,  with  a 
bursting  heart,  an  infinite  number  of  paltry  fellows  raised  to 
rank  and  riches,  while  Fortune,  treacherous  and  blind  that 
she  is,  feeds  me  on  air  and  then  deserts  and  mocks  me.  If 
she  would  only  put  me  quickly  into  the  hands  of  death  I 
would  still  forgive  her  the  wrongs  she  has  done  me.  But 
there  is  the  worst  of  it ;  we  can  neither  hve  nor  die  as  we 
wish.  Therefore,  let  destiny  do  as  it  will,  never  shall  I  cease 
to  curse  it  from  heart  and  lip.  And  worst  of  all  do  I  detest 
old  age  weighed  down  by  poverty.  As  the  queen-mother 
said  to  me  one  day  when  I  had  the  honour  to  speak  to  her 
on  this  subject  about  another  person,  *  Old  age  brings  us 
inconveniences  enough  without  the  additional  burden  of 
poverty ;  the  two  united  are  the  height  of  misery,  against 
which  there  is  one  only  sovereign  cure,  and  that  is  death. 
Happy  he  who  finds  it  when  he  reaches  fifty-six,  for  after 
that  our  life  is  but  labour  and  sorrow,  and  we  eat  but  the 
bread  of  ashes,  as  saith  the  prophet.'" 

He  continued,  however,  to  write,  retracing  all  that  he  had 
seen  and  garnered  either  while  making  his  campaigns  with 
the  great  captains  of  his  time,  or  in  gossiping  with  idle  gen- 


INTRODUCTION.  21 

tlemen  in  the  halls  of  the  Louvre.  It  was  thus  he  composed 
his  biographical  and  anecdotical  volumes,  which  he  retouched 
and  rewrote  at  intervals,  making  several  successive  copies. 
That  he  had  the  future  of  his  writings  much  at  heart,  in  spite 
of  a  scornful  air  of  indifference  which  he  sometimes  assumed, 
appears  very  plainly  from  the  following  clause  in  his  will : 

"  I  will,"  he  says,  "  and  I  expressly  charge  my  heirs  to 
cause  to  be  printed  my  Books,  which  I  have  composed  from 
my  mind  and  invention  with  great  toil  and  trouble,  written 
by  my  hand,  and  transcribed  clearly  by  that  of  Mataud,  my 
hired  secretary;  the  which  will  be  found  in  five  volumes 
covered  with  velvet,  black,  tan,  green,  blue,  and  a  large  vol- 
ume, which  is  that  of  '  The  Ladies,'  covered  with  green  velvet, 
and  another  covered  with  vellum  and  gilded  thereon,  which  is 
that  of  'The  Ehodomontades.'  They  will  be  found  in  one 
of  my  wicker  trunks,  carefully  protected.  Fine  things  will 
be  found  in  them,  such  as  tales,  discourses,  histories,  and  witti- 
cisms ;  which  no  one  can  disdain,  it  seems  to  me,  if  once  they 
are  placed  under  his  nose  and  eyes.  In  ordfer  to  have  them 
printed  according  to  my  fancy,  I  charge  with  that  purpose 
Madame  la  Comtesse  de  Duretal,  my  dear  niece,  or  some 
other  person  she  may  choose.  And  to  do  this  I  order  that 
enough  be  taken  from  my  whole  property  to  pay  the  costs  of 
the  said  printing,  and  my  heirs  are  not  to  divide  or  use  my 
property  until  this  printing  is  provided  for.  It  is  not  probable 
that  it  will  cost  much ;  for  the  printers,  when  they  cast  their 
eyes  upon  the  books,  would  pay  to  print  them  instead  of 
exacting  money  ;  for  they  do  print  many  gratis  that  are  not 
worth  as  much  as  mine.  I  can  boast  of  this;  for  I  have 
shown  them,  at  least  in  part,  to  several  among  that  trade, 
who  offered  to  print  them  for  nothing.  But  I  do  not  choose 
that  they  be  printed  during  my  life.  Above  all,  I  will  that 
the  said  printing  be  in  fine,  large  letters,  in  a  great  volume  to 


22  iN-moDucTioN. 

make  tlie  better  show,  with  license  from  the  king,  who  will 
give  it  readily  ;  or  without  license,  if  that  can  be.  Care 
must  also  be  taken  that  the  printer  does  not  put  on  another 
name  than  mine ;  otherwise  I  shall  be  frustrated  of  all  my 
trouble  and  of  the  fame  that  is  my  due.  I  also  will  that  tlie 
first  book  that  issues  from  the  press  shall  be  given  as  a  gift, 
well  bound  and  covered  in  velvet,  to  Queen  Marguerite,  my 
very  illustrious  mistress,  who  did  me  the  honour  to  read 
some  of  my  writings,  and  who  thought  them  fine  and 
esteemed  them." 

This  will  was  made  about  the  year  1609.  On  the  15th  of 
July,  1614,  Brantome  died,  after  living  his  last  years  in  com- 
plete oblivion ;  he  was  buried,  according  to  his  wishes,  in  the 
chapel  of  his  chateau  of  Eichemont.  In  spite  of  his  ex- 
press directions,  neither  the  Comtesse  de  Duretal  nor  any 
other  of  his  heirs  executed  the  clause  in  his  will  relating  to 
the  publication  of  his  works.  Possibly  they  feared  it  might 
create  some  scandal,  or  it  may  be  that  they  could  not  obtain 
the  royal  license.  The  manuscripts  remained  in  the  chateau 
of  Eichemont.  Little  by  little,  as  time  went  on,  they  at- 
tracted attention  ;  copies  were  made  which  found  their  way 
to  the  cabinets  and  libraries  of  collectors.  They  were  finally 
printed  in  Holland;  and  the  first  volume,  which  appeared 
in  Leyden  from  the  press  of  Jean  Sambix  the  younger,  sold 
by  r.  Foppons,  Brussels,  1665,  was  that  which  here  follows: 
"  The  Book  of  the  Ladies,"  called  by  the  publisher,  not  by 
Brantome,  "  Lives  of  Illustrious  Dames." 

It  is  not  easy  to  distinguish  the  exact  periods  at  which 
Brantome  wrote  his  works.  "  The  Book  of  the  Ladies,"  first 
and  second  parts,  —  Dames  Illustres  and  Dames  Galantes,  — 
were  evidently  the  first  written  ;  then  followed  "  The  Lives 
of  Great  and  Illustrious  French  Captains,"  "  Lives  of  Great 
Foreign    Captains,"   "  Anecdotes    concerning    Duels,"   "  The 


INTRODUCTION.  23 

Ehodomontades,"  and  "  Spanish  Oaths."  Brantome  did  not 
write  his  Memoirs,  properly  so-called  ;  his  biographical  facts 
and  incidents  are  scattered  throughout  the  above-named 
volumes. 

The  following  translation  of  the  "  Book  of  the  Ladies " 
does  not  pretend  to  imitate  Brantome's  style.  To  do  so 
would  seem  an  affectation  in  English,  and  attract  attention 
to  itself  which  it  is  always  desirable  to  avoid  in  translating. 
Wherever  a  few  of  BrantSme's  quaint  turns  of  phrase  are 
given,  it  is  only  as  they  fall  naturally  into  English. 


THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 


DISCOUESE  I 

ANNE  DE  BRETAGNE,  QUEEN  OF  FRANCE. 

Inasmuch  as  I  must  speak  of  ladies,  I  do  not  choose  to 
speak  of  former  dames,  of  whom  the  histories  are  full ;  that 
would  be  blotting  paper  in  vain,  for  enough  has  been  written 
about  them,  and  even  the  great  Boccaccio  has  made  a  fine 
book  solely  on  that  subject  [De  claris  muUerihus]. 

I  shall  begin  therefore  with  our  queen,  Anne  de  Bretagne, 
the  most  worthy  and  honourable  queen  that  has  ever  been 
since  Queen  Blanche,  mother  of  the  King  Saint-Louis,  and 
very  sage  and  virtuous. 

This  Queen  Anne  was  the  rich  heiress  of  the  duchy  of 
Bretagne,  which  was  held  to  be  one  of  the  finest  of  Christen- 
dom, and  for  that  reason  she  was  sought  in  marriage  by 
the  greatest  persons.  M.  le  Due  d'Orldans,  afterwards  King 
Louis  XII.,  in  his  young  days  courted  her,  and  did  for  her 
sake  his  fine  feats  of  arms  in  Bretagne,  and  even  at  the 
battle  of  Saint  Aubin,  where  he  was  taken  prisoner  fighting 
on  foot  at  the  head  of  his  infantry.  I  have  heard  say  that 
this  capture  was  the  reason  why  he  did  not  espouse  her  then  ; 
for  thereon  intervened  Maximilian,  Duke  of  Austria,  since 
emperor,  who  married  her  by  the  proxy  of  his  uncle  the 
Prince  of  Orange  in  the  great  church  at  Nantes.  But  King 
Charles  VITL,  having  advised  with  his  council  that  it  was 


26  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

not  good  to  have  so  powerful  a  seigneur  encroach  and  gefc 
a  footing  in  his  kingdom,  broke  off  a  marriage  that  had  been 
settled  between  himself  and  Marguerite  of  Flanders,  took 
the  said  Anne  from  Maximilian,  her  affianced,  and  wedded 
her  himself;  so  that  every  one  conjectured  thereon  that  a 
marriage  thus  made  would  be  luckless  in  issue. 

Now  if  Anne  was  desired  for  her  property,  she  was  as 
much  so  for  her  virtues  and  merits ;  for  she  was  beautiful 
and  agreeable ;  as  I  have  heard  say  by  elderly  persons  who 
knew  her,  and  according  to  her  portrait,  which  I  have  seen 
from  life ;  resembling  in  face  the  beautiful  Demoiselle  de 
ChSteauneuf,  who  has  been  so  renowned  at  the  Court  for  her 
beauty ;  and  that  is  sufficient  to  tell  the  beauty  of  Queen 
Anne  as  I  have  heard  it  portrayed  to  the  queen  mother 
[Catherine  de'  Medici]. 

Her  figure  was  fine  and  of  medium  height.  It  is  true  that 
one  foot  was  shorter  than  the  other  the  least  in  the  world ; 
but  this  was  little  perceived,  and  hardly  to  be  noticed,  so  that 
her  beauty  was  not  at  all  spoilt  by  it ;  for  I  myself  have  seen 
very  handsome  women  with  that  defect  who  yet  were  ex- 
treme in  beauty,  like  Mme.  la  Princesse  de  Conde,  of  the 
house  of  Longueville. 

So  much  for  the  beauty  of  the  body  of  this  queen.  That 
of  her  mind  was  no  less,  because  she  was  very  virtuous,  wise, 
honourable,  pleasant  of  speech,  and  very  charming  and  sub- 
tile in  wit.  She  had  been  taught  and  trained  by  Mme.  de 
Laval,  an  able  and  accomplished  lady,  appointed  her  gov- 
erness by  her  father.  Due  rran§ois.  For  the  rest,  she  was 
very  kind,  very  merciful,  and  very  charitable,  as  I  have  heard 
my  own  folks  say.  True  it  is,  however,  that  she  was  quick 
in  vengeance  and  seldom  pardoned  whoever  offended  her 
maliciously ;  as  she  showed  to  the  Mardchal  de  Gi^  for  the 
affront  he  put  upon  her  when  the  king,  her  lord  and  husband, 


ANNE  DE  BRETAGNE,  QUEEN  OF  FRANCE.      27 

lay  ill  at  Blois  and  was  held  to  be  dying.  She.  wishing  to 
provide  for  her  wants  in  case  she  became  a  widow,  caused 
three  or  four  boats  to  be  laden  on  the  Kiver  Loire  with  all 
her  precious  articles,  furniture,  jewels,  rings  and  money, — 
and  sent  them  to  her  city  and  chateau  of  Nantes.  The  said 
marshal,  meeting  these  boats  between  Saumur  and  Nantes, 
ordered  them  stopped  and  seized,  being  much  too  wishful  to 
play  the  good  officer  and  servant  of  the  Crown.  But  fortune 
willed  that  the  king,  through  the  prayers  of  his  people,  to 
whom  he  was  indeed  a  true  father,  escaped  with  his    life. 

The  queen,  in  spite  of  this  luck,  did  not  abstain  from  her 
vengeance,  and  having  well  brewed  it,  she  caused  the  said 
marshal  to  be  driven  from  Court.  It  was  then  that  having 
finished  a  fine  house  at  La  Verger,  he  retired  there,  saying 
that  the  rain  had  come  just  in  time  to  let  him  get  under 
shelter  in  the  beautiful  house  so  recently  built.  But  this 
banishment  from  Court  was  not  all ;  through  great  researches 
which  she  caused  to  be  made  wherever  he  had  been  in  com- 
mand, it  was  discovered  he  had  committed  great  wrongs, 
extortions  and  pillages,  to  which  all  governors  are  given  ;  so 
that  the  marshal,  having  appealed  to  the  courts  of  parliament, 
was  summoned  before  that  of  Toulouse,  which  had  long  been 
very  just  and  equitable,  and  not  corrupt.  There,  his  suit 
being  viewed,  he  was  convicted.  But  the  queen  did  not  wish 
his  death,  because,  she  said,  death  is  a  cure  for  all  pains  and 
woes,  and  being  dead  he  would  be  too  happy ;  she  wished 
him  to  live  as  degraded  and  low  as  he  had  been  great ;  so 
that  he  might,  from  the  grandeur  and  height  where  he  had 
been,  live  miserably  in  troubles,  pains,  and  sadness,  which 
would  do  him  a  hundred-fold  more  harm  than  death,  for 
death  lasted  only  a  day,  and  mayhap  only  an  hour,  whereas 
his  languishing  would  make  him  die  daily. 

Such  was  the  vengeance  of  this  brave  queen.    One  day  she 


28  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

was  so  angry  against  M.  d'OrMans  that  she  could  not  for  a 
long  time  be  appeased.  It  was  in  this  wise :  the  death  of  her 
son,  M.  le  dauphin,  having  happened,  King  Charles,  her  hus- 
band, and  she  were  in  such  despair  that  the  doctors,  fearing 
the  debility  and  feeble  constitution  of  the  king,  were  alarmed 
lest  such  grief  should  do  injury  to  his  health;  so  they  coun- 
selled the  king  to  amuse  himself,  and  the  princes  of  the 
Court  to  invent  new  pastimes,  games,  dances,  and  mum- 
meries in  order  to  give  pleasure  to  the  king  and  queen ;  the 
which  M.  d'Orldans  having  undertaken,  he  gave  at  the 
Chateau  d'Amboise  a  masquerade  and  dance,  at  which  he  did 
such  follies  and  danced  so  gayly,  as  was  told  and  read,  that 
the  queen,  believing  he  felt  this  glee  because,  the  dauphin 
being  dead,  he  knew  himself  nearer  to  be  King  of  France, 
was  extremely  angered,  and  showed  him  such  displeasure  that 
he  was  forced  to  escape  from  Amboise,  where  the  Court  then 
was,  and  go  to  his  chateau  of  Blois.  Nothing  can  be  blamed 
in  this  queen  except  the  sin  of  vengeance,  —  if  vengeance  is  a 
sin,  — because  otherwise  she  was  beautiful  and  gentle,  and  had 
many  very  laudable  sides. 

When  the  king,  her  husband,  went  to  the  kingdom  of 
Naples  [1494],  and  so  long  as  he  was  there,  she  knew  very 
well  how  to  govern  the  kingdom  of  France  with  those  whom 
the  king  had  given  to  assist  her;  but  she  always  kept  her 
rank,  her  grandeur,  and  supremacy,  and  insisted,  young  as  she 
was,  on  being  trusted  ;  and  she  made  herself  trusted,  so  that 
nothing  was  ever  found  to  say  against  her. 

She  felt  great  regret  for  the  death  of  King  Charles  [in 
1498],  as  much  for  the  friendship  she  bore  him  as  for  seeing 
herself  henceforth  but  half  a  queen,  having  no  children. 
And  when  her  most  intimate  ladies,  as  I  have  been  told  on 
good  authority,  pitied  her  for  being  the  widow  of  so  great  a 
king,  and  imable  to  return  to  her  high  estate,  —  for  King 


ANNE  DE  BRETAGNE,  QUEEN  OF  FRANCE.      29 

Louis  [the  Due  d'Orl^ans,  her  first  lover]  was  then  married 
to  Jeanne  de  France,  —  she  replied  she  would  "  rather  be  the 
widow  of  a  king  all  her  life  than  debase  herself  to  a  less  than 
he ;  but  still,  she  was  not  so  despairing  of  happiness  that  she 
did  not  think  of  again  being  Queen  of  France,  as  she  had  been, 
if  she  chose."  Her  old  love  made  her  say  so  ;  she  meant  to 
relight  it  in  the  bosom  of  him  in  whom  it  was  yet  warm. 
And  so  it  happened  ;  for  King  Louis  [XII.],  having  repudi- 
ated Jeanne,  his  wife,  and  never  having  lost  his  early  love, 
took  her  in  marriage,  as  we  have  seen  and  read.  So  here  was 
her  prophecy  accomplished;  she  having  founded  it  on  the 
nature  of  King  Louis,  who  could  not  keep  himself  from  lov- 
ing her,  all  married  as  she  was,  but  looked  with  a  tender  eye 
upon  her,  being  stiU  Due  d' Orleans;  for  it  is  difficult  to 
quench  a  great  fire  when  once  it  has  seized  the  souL 

He  was  a  handsome  prince  and  very  amiable,  and  she  did 
not  hate  him  for  that.  Having  taken  her,  he  honoured  her 
much,  leaving  her  to  enjoy  her  property  and  her  duchy  with- 
out touching  it  himself  or  taking  a  single  louis ;  but  she 
employed  it  well,  for  she  was  very  liberal  And  because 
the  king  made  immense  gifts,  to  meet  which  he  must  have 
levied  on  his  people,  which  he  shunned  like  the  plague,  she 
supplied  his  deficiencies ;  and  there  were  no  great  captains 
of  the  kingdom  to  whom  she  did  not  give  pensions,  or  make 
extraordinary  presents  of  money  or  of  thick  gold  chains 
when  they  went  upon  a  journey ;  and  she  even  made  little 
presents  according  to  quality ;  everybody  ran  to  her,  and 
few  came  away  discontented.  Above  all,  she  had  the  reputa- 
tion of  loving  her  domestic  servants,  and  to  them  she  did 
great  good. 

She  was  the  first  queen  to  hold  a  great  Court  of  ladies, 
such  as  we  have  seen  from  her  time  to  the  present  day. 
Her  suite  was  very  large  of  ladies  and  young  girls,  for  she 


30  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

refused  none ;  she  even  inquired  of  the  noblemen  of  her 
Court  whether  they  had  daughters,  and  what  they  were,  and 
asked  to  have  them  brought  to  her.  I  had  an  aunt  de 
Bourdeille  who  had  the  honour  of  being  brought  up  by  her 
[Louise  de  Bourdeille,  maid  of  honour  to  Queen  Anne  in 
1494] ;  but  she  died  at  Court,  aged  fifteen  years,  and  was 
buried  behind  the  great  altar  of  the  church  of  the  Fran- 
ciscans in  Paris.  I  saw  the  tomb  and  its  inscription  before 
that  church  was  burned  [in  1580.] 

Queen  Anne's  Court  was  a  noble  school  for  ladies ;  she 
had  them  taught  and  brought  up  wisely;  and  all,  taking 
pattern  by  her,  made  themselves  wise  and  virtuous.  Be- 
cause her  heart  was  great  and  lofty  she  wanted  guards,  and 
so  formed  a  second  band  of  a  hundred  gentlemen,  —  for 
hitherto  there  was  only  one;  and  the  greater  part  of  the 
said  new  guard  were  Bretons,  who  never  failed,  when  she 
left  her  room  to  go  to  mass  or  to  promenade,  to  await  her 
on  that  little  terrace  at  Blois,  still  called  the  Breton  perch, 
"La  Perche  aux  Bretons,"  she  herself  having  named  it  so 
by  saying  when  she  saw  them :  "  Here  are  my  Bretons  on 
their  perch,  awaiting  me." 

You  may  be  sure  that  she  did  not  lay  by  her  money,  but 
employed  it  well  on  all  high  things. 

She  it  was,  who  built,  out  of  great  superbness,  that  fine 
vessel  and  mass  of  wood,  called  "  La  Cordelifere,"  which  at- 
tacked so  furiously  in  mid-ocean  the  "  Regent  of  England," 
grappling  to  her  so  closely  that  both  were  burned  and  noth- 
ing escaped,  —  not  the  people,  nor  anything  else  that  was  in 
them,  so  that  no  news  was  ever  heard  of  them  on  land ; 
which  troubled  the  queen  very  much.^ 

The  king  honoured  her  so  much  that  one  day,  it  being 
reported  to  him  that  the  law  clerks  at  the  Palais  [de  Justice] 

1  See  Ai)pen(lix. 


ANNE  DE  BRETAGNE,  QUEEN  OF  FRANCE.      31 

and  the  students  also  were  playing  games  in  which  there 
was  talk  of  the  king,  his  Court,  and  all  the  great  people, 
he  took  no  other  notice  than  to  say  they  needed  a  pastime, 
and  he  would  let  them  talk  of  him  and  his  Court,  though 
not  licentiously ;  but  as  for  the  queen,  his  wife,  they  should 
not  speak  of  her  in  any  way  whatsoever ;  if  they  did  he 
would  have  them  hanged.  Such  was  the  honour  he  bore 
her. 

Moreover,  there  never  came  to  his  Court  a  foreign  prince 
or  an  ambassador  that,  after  having  seen  and  listened  to 
them,  he  did  not  send  them  to  pay  their  reverence  to  the 
queen ;  wishing  the  same  respect  to  be  shown  to  her  as  to 
him ;  and  also,  because  he  recognized  in  her  a  great  faculty 
for  entertaining  and  pleasing  great  personages,  as,  indeed, 
she  knew  well  how  to  do ;  taking  much  pleasure  in  it  her- 
self;  for  she  had  very  good  and  fine  grace  and  majesty  in 
greeting  them,  and  beautiful  eloquence  in  talking  with  them. 
Sometimes,  amid  her  French  speech,  she  would,  to  make 
herself  more  admired,  mingle  a  few  foreign  words,  which 
she  had  learned  from  M.  de  Grignaux,  her  chevalier  of 
honour,  who  was  a  very  gallant  man  who  had  seen  the 
world,  and  was  accomplished  and  knew  foreign  languages, 
being  thereby  very  pleasant  good  company,  and  agree- 
able to  meet.  Thus  it  was  that  one  day.  Queen  Anne 
having  asked  him  to  teach  her  a  few  words  of  Spanish  to 
say  to  the  Spanish  ambassador,  he  taught  her  in  joke  a  little 
indecency,  which  she  quickly  learned.  The  next  day,  while 
awaiting  the  ambassador,  M.  de  Grignaux  told  the  story  to 
the  king,  who  thought  it  good,  understanding  his  gay  and 
lively  humour.  Nevertheless  he  went  to  the  queen,  and 
told  her  all,  warning  her  to  be  careful  not  to  use  those 
words.  She  was  in  such  great  anger,  though  the  king  only 
laughed,  that  she  wanted  to  dismiss  M.  de  Grignaux,  and 


32  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

showed  him  her  displeasure  for  several  days.  But  M.  de 
Grignaux  made  her  such  humble  excuses,  telling  her  that 
he  only  did  it  to  make  the  king  laugh  and  pass  his  time 
merrily,  and  that  he  was  not  so  ill-advised  as  to  fail  to  warn 
the  king  in  time  that  he  might,  as  he  really  did,  warn  her 
before  the  arrival  of  the  ambassador ;  so  that  on  these  ex- 
cuses and  the  entreaties  of  the  king  she  was  pacified. 

Now,  if  the  king  loved  and  honoured  her  living,  we  may 
believe  that,  she  being  dead,  he  did  the  same.  And  to  mani- 
fest the  mourning  that  he  felt,  the  superb  and  honourable 
funeral  and  obsequies  that  he  ordered  for  her  are  proof  ;  the 
which  I  have  read  of  in  an  old  "  History  of  France "  that  I 
found  lying  about  in  a  closet  in  our  house,  nobody  caring  for 
it ;  and  having  gathered  it  up,  I  looked  at  it.  Now  as  this 
is  a  matter  that  should  be  noted,  I  shall  put  it  here,  word 
for  word  as  the  book  says,  without  changing  anything ;  for 
though  it  is  old,  the  language  is  not  very  bad ;  and  as  for 
the  truth  of  the  book,  it  has  been  confirmed  to  me  by 
my  grandmother,  Mme.  la  Seneschale  de  Poitou,  of  the 
family  du  Lude,  who  was  then  at  the  Court.  The  book  re- 
lates it  thus :  — 

"  This  queen  was  an  honourable  and  virtuous  queen,  and 
very  wise,  the  true  mother  of  the  poor,  the  support  of  gentle- 
men, the  haven  of  ladies,  damoiselles,  and  honest  girls,  and 
the  refuge  of  learned  men  ;  so  that  all  the  people  of  France 
cannot  surfeit  themselves  enough  in  deploring  and  regretting 
her. 

"She  died  at  the  castle  of  Blois  on  the  twenty-first  of 
January,  in  the  year  1513,  after  the  accomplishment  of  a 
thing  she  had  most  desired,  namely :  the  union  of  the  king, 
her  lord,  with  the  pope  and  the  Roman  Church,  abhorring  as 
she  did  schism  and  divisions.  For  that  reason  she  had  never 
ceased  urging  the  king  to  this  step,  for  which  she  wag  \s 


ANNE  DE  BRETAGNE,  QUEEN  OF  FRANCE.      33 

much  loved  and  greatly  revered  by  the  Catholic  princes  and 
prelates  as  the  king  had  been  hated. 

"  I  have  seen  at  Saint-Denis  a  grand  church  cope,  all  cov- 
ered with  pearls  embroidered,  which  she  had  ordered  to  be 
made  expressly  to  send  as  a  present  to  the  pope,  but  death 
prevented.  After  her  decease  her  body  remained  for  three 
days  in  her  room,  the  face  uncovered,  and  nowise  changed  by 
hideous  death,  but  as  beautiful  and  agreeable  as  when  living. 

"  Friday,  the  twenty-seventh  of  the  month  of  January,  her 
body  was  taken  from  the  castle,  very  honourably  accompanied 
by  all  the  priests  and  monks  of  the  town,  borne  by  persons 
wearing  mourning,  with  hoods  over  their  heads,  accompanied 
by  twenty-four  torches  larger  than  the  other  torches  borne 
by  twenty-four  officers  of  the  household  of  the  said  lady, 
on  each  of  which  were  two  rich  armorial  escutcheons  bear- 
ing the  arms  emblazoned  of  the  said  lady.  After  these 
torches  came  the  reverend  seigneurs  and  prelates,  bishops, 
abb&,  and  M.  le  Cardinal  de  Luxembourg  to  read  the  office  ; 
and  thus  was  removed  the  body  of  the  said  lady  from  the 
Chateau  de  Blois.  .  .  . 

"  Septuagesima  Sunday,  twelfth  of  February,  they  arrived 
at  the  church  of  ISTotre-Dame  des  Champs  in  the  suburbs  of 
Paris,  and  there  the  body  was  guarded  two  nights  with  great 
quantities  of  lights ;  and  on  the  following  Tuesday,  the  devout 
services  having  been  read,  there  marched  before  the  body 
processions  with  the  crosses  of  all  the  churches  and  all  the 
monasteries  of  Paris,  the  whole  University  in  a  body,  the 
presidents  and  counsellors  of  the  sovereign  court  of  Parlia- 
ment, and  generally  of  all  other  courts  and  jurisdictions, 
officers  and  advocates,  merchants  and  citizens,  and  other 
lesser  officers  of  the  town.  All  these  accompanied  the  said 
body  reverentially,  with  the  very  noble  seigneurs  and  ladies 
aforenamed,  just  as  they  started  from  Blois,  all  keeping  fine 


34  THE  BOOK  OF  THE   -SADIES. 

order  among  themselves  according  to  their  several  ranks.  .  .  . 
And  thus  was  borne  through  Paris,  in  the  order  and  manner 
above,  the  body  of  the  queen  to  be  sepulchred  in  the  pious 
church  of  Saint-Denis  of  France ;  preceded  by  these  pro- 
cessions to  a  cross  which  is  not  far  beyond  the  place  where 
the  fair  of  Landit  is  held. 

"And  to  the  spot  where  stands  the  cross  the  reverend 
father  in  God,  the  abb^  and  the  venerable  monks,  with  the 
priests  of  the  churches  and  parishes  of  Saint-Denis,  vestured 
in  their  great  copes,  with  their  crosses,  came  in  procession, 
together  with  the  peasants  and  the  inhabitants  of  the  said 
town,  to  receive  the  body  of  the  late  queen,  which  was  then 
borne  to  the  door  of  the  church  of  Saint-Denis,  still  accom- 
panied honourably  by  all  the  above-named  very  noble  princes 
and  princesses,  seigneurs,  dames,  and  damoiselles,  and  their 
train  as  already  stated.  .  .  . 

"And  all  being  duly  accomplished,  the  body  of  the  said 
lady,  Madame  Anne,  in  her  lifetime  very  noble  Queen  of 
France,  Duchesse  of  Bretagne,  and  Comtesse  d'fitampes,  was 
honourably  interred  and  sepulchred  in  the  tomb  for  her 
prepared. 

"  After  this,  the  herald-at-arms  for  Bretagne  summoned  all 
the  princes  and  officers  of  the  said  lady,  to  wit :  the  chevalier 
of  honour,  the  grand-master  of  the  household,  and  others, 
each  and  all,  to  fulfil  their  duty  towards  the  said  body,  which 
they  did  most  piteously,  shedding  tears  from  their  eyes.  And, 
this  done,  the  aforenamed  king-at-arms  cried  three  times 
aloud  in  a  most  piteous  voice  :  *  The  very  Christian  Queen  of 
France,  Duchesse  de  Bretagne,  our  Sovereign  Lady,  is  dead ! ' 
And  then  all  departed.     The  body  remained  entombed. 

"  During  her  life  and  after  her  death  she  was  honoured  by 
the  titles  I  have  before  given  :  true  mother  of  the  poor ;  the 
comfort  of  noble  gentlemen ;  the  haven  of  ladies  and  damoi- 


ANNE  DE  BRlfrAGNE,  QUEEN  OF  FRANCE.  35 

selles  and  honest  girls ;  the  refuge  of  learned  men  and  those 
of  good  lives ;  so  that  speaking  of  her  dead  is  only  renewing 
the  grief  and  regrets  of  all  such  persons,  and  also  that  of  her 
domestic  servants,  whom  she  loved  singularly.  She  was  veiy 
rehgious  and  devout.  It  was  she  who  made  the  foundation 
of  the  *  Bons-Hommes '  [monastery  of  the  order  of  Saint- 
Frangois  de  Paule  at  Chaillot],  otherwise  called  the  Minimes ; 
and  she  began  to  build  the  church  of  the  said  *  Bons-Hommes ' 
near  Paris,  and  afterwards  that  in  Eome  which  is  so  beautiful 
and  noble,  and  where,  as  I  saw  myself,  they  receive  no  monks 
but  Frenchmen." 

There,  word  for  word,  are  the  splendid  obsequies  of  this 
queen,  without  changing  a  word  of  the  original,  for  fear  of 
doing  worse,  —  for  I  could  not  do  better.  They  were  just  like 
those  of  our  kings  that  I  have  heard  and  read  of,  and  those 
of  King  Charles  IX.,  at  which  I  was  present,  and  which  the 
queen,  his  mother,  desired  to  make  so  fine  and  magnificent, 
though  the  finances  of  France  were  then  too  short  to  spend 
much,  because  of  the  departure  of  the  King  of  Poland,  who 
with  his  suite  had  squandered  and  carried  off  a  great  deal 
[1574]. 

Certainly  I  find  these  two  interments  much  alike,  save  for 
three  things:  one,  that  the  burial  of  Queen  Anne  w^as  the 
most  superb ;  second,  that  all  went  so  weU  in  order  and  so 
discreetly  that  there  was  no  contention  of  ranks,  as  occurred 
at  the  burial  of  King  Charles  ;  for  his  body,  being  about  to 
start  for  Notre-Dame,  the  court  of  parliament  had  some 
pique  of  precedence  with  the  nobility  and  tlie  Church,  claim- 
ing to  stand  in  the  place  of  the  king  and  to  represent  him 
when  absent,  he  being  then  out  of  the  kingdom.  [Henri  III. 
was  then  King  of  Poland].  On  which  a  great  princess,  as 
the  world  goes,  who  was  very  near  to  him,  whom  I  know 
but  will  not  name,  went  about  argumg  and  saying  :  "  It  was 


36  •  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

no  wonder  if,  during  the  lifetime  of  the  king,  seditions  and 
troubles  had  been  in  vogue,  ^seeing  that,  dead  as  he  was,  he 
was  still  able  to  stir  up  strife."  Alas !  he  never  did  it,  poor 
prince  !  either  dead  or  living.  We  know  well  who  were  the 
authors  of  the  seditions  and  of  our  civil  wars.  That  princess 
who  said  those  words  has  since  found  reason  to  regret 
them. 

The  third  thing  is  that  the  body  of  King  Charles  was 
quitted,  at  the  church  of  Saint-Lazare,  by  the  whole  pro- 
cession, princes,  seigneurs,  courts  of  parliament,  the  Church, 
and  the  citizens,  and  was  followed  and  accompanied  from 
there  by  none  but  poor  M.  de  Strozzi,  de  Fumel,  and  myself, 
with  two  gentlemen  of  the  bedchamber,  for  we  were  not 
willing  to  abandon  our  master  as  long  as  he  was  above 
ground.  There  were  also  a  few  archers  of  the  guard,  quite 
XJitiable  to  see,  in  the  fields.  So  at  eight  in  the  evening  in 
the  month  of  July,  we  started  with  the  body  and  its  effigy 
thus  badly  accompanied. 

Eeaching  the  cross,  we  found  all  the  monks  of  Saint- 
Denis  awaiting  us,  and  the  body  of  the  king  was  honourably 
escorted,  with  the  ceremonies  of  the  Church,  to  Saint-Denis, 
where  the  great  Cardinal  de  Lorraine  received  it  most  honour- 
ably and  devoutly,  as  he  knew  well  how  to  do. 

The  queen-mother  was  very  angry  that  the  procession  did 
not  continue  to  the  end  as  she  intended  —  save  for  Monsieur 
her  son,  and  the  King  of  Navarre,  whom  she  held  a  prisoner. 
The  next  day,  however,  the  latter  arrived  in  a  coach,  with 
a  very  good  guard,  and  captains  of  the  guard  with  him,  to 
be  present  at  the  solemn  high  service,  attended  by  the 
whole  procession  and  company  as  at  first,  —  a  sight  very  sad 
to  see. 

After  dinner  the  court  of  parliament  sent  to  tell  and  to 
command  the  grand  almoner  Aniyot  to  go  and  say  grace 


ANNE  DE  BRETAGNE,  QUEEN  OF  FRANCE.     37 

after  meat  for  them  as  if  for  the  king.  To  which  he  made 
answer  that  he  should  do  nothing  of  the  kind,  for  it  was 
not  before  them  he  was  bound  to  do  it.  They  sent  him 
two  consecutive  and  threatening  commands ;  which  he  still 
refused,  and  went  and  hid  himself  that  he  might  answer 
no  more.  Then  they  swore  they  would  not  leave  the  table 
till  he  came ;  but  not  being  able  to  find  him,  they  were 
constrained  to  say  grace  themselves  and  to  rise,  which  they 
did  with  great  threats,  foully  abusing  the  said  almoner,  even 
to  calling  him  scoundrel,  and  son  of  a  butcher.  I  saw  the 
whole  affair;  and  I  know  what  Monsieur  commanded  me 
to  go  and  tell  to  M.  le  cardinal,  asking  him  to  pacify  the  mat- 
ter, because  they  had  sent  commands  to  Monsieur  to  send 
to  them,  as  representatives  of  the  king,  the  grand  almoner 
if  he  could  be  found.  M.  le  cardinal  went  to  speak  to  them, 
but  he  gained  nothing ;  they  standing  firm  on  their  opinion 
of  their  royal  majesty  and  authority.  I  know  what  M.  le 
cardinal  said  to  me  about  them,  telling  me  not  to  say  it,  — 
that  they  were  perfect  fools.  The  chief  president,  de  Thou, 
was  then  at  their  head  ;  a  great  senator  certainly,  but  he  had 
a  temper.  So  here  was  another  disturbance  to  make  that 
princess  say  again  that  King  Charles,  either  living  or  dead, 
on  earth  or  under  it,  that  body  of  his  stirred  up  the  world 
and  threw  it  into  sedition.     Alas !  that  he  could  not  do. 

I  have  told  this  little  incident,  possibly  more  at  length  than 
I  should,  and  I  may  be  blamed ;  but  I  reply  that  I  have 
told  and  put  it  here  as  it  came  into  my  fancy  and  memory  ; 
also  that  it  comes  in  b,  propos  ;  and  that  I  cannot  forget  it, 
for  it  seems  to  me  a  thing  that  is  rather  remarkable. 

Now,  to  return  to  our  Queen  Anne  :  we  see  from  this  fine 
last  duty  of  her  obsequies  how  beloved  she  was  of  earth  and 
heaven ;  far  otherwise  than  that  proiid,  pompous  queen,  Isa- 
bella of  Bavaria,  wife  of   the   late  King   Charles  VI.,  who 


38  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

having  died  in  Paris,  her  body  was  so  despised  it  was  put 
out  of  her  palace  into  a  little  boat  on  the  river  Seine,  with- 
out form  of  ceremony  or  pomp,  being  carried  through  a 
little  postern  so  narrow  it  could  hardly  go  through,  and 
thus  was  taken  to  Saint-Denis  to  her  tomb  like  a  simple 
damoiselle,  neither  more  nor  less.  There  was  also  a  differ- 
ence between  her  actions  and  those  of  Queen  Anne  :  for  she 
brought  the  English  into  France  and  Paris,  threw  the  king- 
dom into  flames  and  divisions,  and  impoverished  and  rumed 
every  one ;  whereas  Queen  Anne  kept  France  in  peace,  en- 
larged and  enriched  it  w4th  her  beautiful  duchy  and  the  fine 
property  she  brought  with  her.  So  one  need  not  wonder 
that  the  king  regretted  her  and  felt  such  mourning  that  he 
came  nigh  dying  in  the  forest  of  Vincennes,  and  clothed 
himself  and  all  his  Court  so  long  in  black ;  and  those  who 
came  otherwise  clothed  he  had  them  driven  away  ;  neither 
would  he  see  any  ambassador,  no  matter  who  he  was,  unless 
he  were  dressed  in  black.  And,  moreover,  that  old  History 
which  I  have  quoted,  says :  "  When  he  gave  his  daughter  to 
M.  dAngoul>5me,  afterwards  King  Francois,  mourning  was 
not  left  off  by  him  or  his  Court ;  and  the  day  of  the  espousals 
in  the  church  of  Saint-Germain-en-Laye,  the  bridegroom  and 
bride  were  vestured  and  clothed  "  —  so  this  History  says  — 
"  in  black  cloth,  honestly  cut  in  mourning  shape,  for  the  death 
of  the  said  queen,  Madame  Anne  de  Bretagne,  mother  of 
the  bride,  in  presence  of  the  king,  her  father,  accompanied 
by  the  princes  of  the  blood  and  noble  seigneurs  and  prel- 
ates, princesses,  dames,  and  damoiselles,  all  clothed  in,  black 
cloth  made  in  mourning  shape."  That  is  what  the  book 
says.  It  was  a  strange  austerity  of  mourning  which  should 
be  noted,  that  not  even  on  the  day  of  the  wedding  was  it 
dispensed  with,  to  be  renewed  on  the  following  day. 

From  this  we  may  know  how  beloved,  and  worthy  to  be 


ANNE  DE  BRETAGNE,  QUEEN  OF  FRANCE.     39 

beloved  this  princess  was  by  the  king,  her  husband,  who 
sometimes  in  liis  merry  moods  and  gayety  would  caU  her 
"his  Breton." 

If  she  had  lived  longer  she  would  never  have  consented 
to  that  marriage  of  her  daughter ;  it  was  very  repugnant  to 
her  and  she  said  so  to  the  king,  her  husband,  for  she  mor- 
tally hated  Madame  d'Angouleme,  afterwards  Eegent,  their 
tempers  being  quite  unlike  and  not  agreeing  together ;  be- 
sides which,  she  had  wished  to  unite  her  said  daughter  to 
Charles  of  Austria,  then  young,  the  greatest  seigneur  of 
Christendom,  who  was  afterwards  emperor.  And  this  she 
wished  in  spite  of  ISL  d'Angouleme  coming  very  near  the 
Crown ;  but  she  never  thought  of  that,  or  would  not  think 
of  it,  trusting  to  have  more  children  herself,  she  being  only 
thirty-seven  years  old  when  she  died.  In  her  lifetime  and 
reign,  reigned  also  that  great  and  wise  queen,  Isabella  of 
Castile,  very  accordant  in  manners  and  morals  with  our 
Queen  Anne.  For  which  reason  they  loved  each  other 
much  and  visited  one  another  often  by  embassies,  letters, 
and  presents;  'tis  thus  that  virtue  ever  seeks  out  virtue. 

King  Louis  was  afterwards  pleased  to  marry  for  the  third 
time  Marie,  sister  of  the  King  of  England,  a  very  beautiful 
princess,  young,  and  too  young  for  him,  so  that  evil  came  of 
it.  But  he  married  more  from  policy,  to  make  peace  with 
the  English  and  to  put  his  own  kingdom  at  rest,  than  for 
any  other  reason,  never  being  able  to  forget  his  Queen  Anne. 
He  commanded  at  his  death  that  they  should  both  be  covered 
by  the  same  tomb,  just  as  we  now  see  it  in  Saint-Denis,  all  in 
white  marble,  as  beautiful  and  superb  as  never  was. 

Now,  here  I  pause  in  my  discourse  and  go  no  farther; 
referring  the  rest  to  books  that  are  written  of  this  queen 
better  than  I  could  write  ;  only  to  content  my  own  self  have 
I  made  this  discourse. 


40  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

I  will  say  one  other  little  thing  ;  that  she  was  the  first  of 
our  queens  or  prince  3ses  to  form  the  usage  of  putting  a  belt 
round  their  arms  and  escutcheons,  which  until  then  were 
borne  not  inclosed,  but  quite  loose ;  and  the  said  queen  was 
the  first  to  put  the  belt. 

I  say  no  more,  not  having  been  of  her  time ;  although  I 
protest  having  told  only  truth,  having  learned  it,  as  I  have 
said,  from  a  book,  and  also  from  Mme.  la  Seneschale,  my 
grandmother,  and  from  Mme.  de  Dampierre,  my  aunt,  a  true 
Court  register,  and  as  clever,  wise,  and  virtuous  a  lady  as  ever 
entered  a  Court  these  hundred  years,  and  who  knew  well  how 
to  discourse  on  old  things.  From  eight  years  of  age  she  was 
brought  up  at  Court,  and  forgot  nothing ;  it  was  good  to  hear 
her  talk ;  and  I  have  seen  our  kings  and  queens  take  a  singu- 
lar pleasure  in  listening  to  her,  for  she  knew  all,  —  her  own 
time  and  past  times ;  so  that  people  took  word  from  her  as 
from  an  oracle.  King  Henri  Til.  made  her  lady  of  honour 
to  the  queen,  his  wife.  I  have  here  used  recollections  and 
lessons  that  I  obtained  from  her,  and  I  hope  to  use  many 
more  in  the  course  of  these  books. 

I  have  read  the  epitaph  of  the  said  queen,  thus  made :  — 

"  Here  lies  Anne,  who  was  wife  to  two  great  kings, 
Great  a  hundred-fold  herself,  as  queen  two  times  I 
Never  queen  like  her  enriched  all  France ; 
That  is  what  it  is  to  make  a  grand  alliance." 


Gui  Patin,  satirist  and  jovial  spirit  of  his  time  [he  was 
born  in  1601],  attracted  to  Saint-Denis  because  a  fair  was 
held  there,  visits  the  abbey,  the  treasury,  "  where  "  he  says, 
"  there  was  plenty  of  silly  stuff  and  rubbish,"  and  lastly  the 
tombs  of  the  kings,  "  where  I  could  not  keep  myself  from 
weeping  to  see  so  many  monuments  to  the  vanity  of  humaa 


ANNE  DE  BRETAGNE,  QUEEN  OF  FRANCE.      41 

life ;  tears  escaped  me  also  before  the  tomb  of  the  great  and 
good  king,  Frangois  I.,  who  founded  our  College  of  Professors 
of  the  King.  I  must  own  my  weakness ;  I  kissed  it,  and 
also  that  of  his  father-in-law,  Louis  XII.,  who  was  the  Father 
of  his  People,  and  the  best  king  we  have  ever  had  in  France." 
Happy  age !  still  neighbour  to  beliefs,  when  those  reputed 
the  greatest  satirists  had  these  touching  naivetes,  these 
wholly  patriotic  and  antique  sensibilities. 

Mezeray  [born  ten  years  later],  in  his  natural,  sincere  and 
expressive  diction,  his  clear  and  full  narration,  into  which  he 
has  the  art  to  bring  speaking  circumstances  which  animate 
the  tale,  says  in  relation  to  Louis  XII.  [in  his  "  History  of 
France  "]  :  "  When  he  rode  through  the  country  the  good  folk 
ran  from  all  parts  and  for  many  days  to  see  him,  strewing 
the  roads  with  flowers  and  foliage,  and  striving,  as  though  he 
were  a  visible  God,  to  touch  his  saddle  with  their  handker- 
chiefs and  keep  them  as  precious  relics." 

And  two  centuries  later,  Comte  Eoederer,  in  his  Memoir 
on  Polite  Society  and  the  Hotel  de  Eambouillet,  printed 
in  1835,  tells  us  how  in  his  youth  his  mind  was  already  busy 
with  Louis  XII.,  and,  returning  to  the  same  interest  in  after 
years,  he  made  him  his  hero  of  predilection  and  his  king. 
In  studying  the  history  of  France  he  thought  he  discov- 
ered, he  says,  that  at  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century  and 
the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  what  has  since  been  called  the 
"  French  Eevolution  "  was  already  consummated  ;  that  liberty 
rested  on  a  free  Constitution;  and  that  Louis  XII.,  the 
Father  of  his  People,  was  he  who  had  accomplished  it. 
Bonhomie  and  goodness  have  never  been  denied  to  Louis  XII., 
but  Eoederer  claims  more,  he  claims  ability  and  skill.  The 
Italian  wars,  considered  generally  to  have  been  mistakes,  he 
excuses  and  justifies  by  showing  them  in  the  king's  mind  as 
a  means  of  useful  national  policy  ;  he  needed  to  obtain  from 


42  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

Pope  Alexander  VI.  the  dissolution  of  his  marriage  with 
Jeanne  de  France,  in  order  that  he  might  marry  Anne  de 
Bretagne  and  so  unite  the  duchy  with  the  kingdom.  Eoederer 
makes  King  Louis  a  type  of  perfection ;  seeming  to  have 
searched  in  regions  far  from  those  that  are  historically  bril- 
liant, far  from  spheres  of  fame  and  glory,  into  "  the  depths 
obscure,"  as  he  says  himself,  "  of  useful  government  for  a 
hero  of  a  new  species." 

More  than  that :  he  thinks  he  sees  in  the  cherished  wife 
of  Louis  XIL,  in  Anne  de  Bretagne,  the  foundress  of  a  school 
of  polite  manners  and  perfection  for  her  sex.  "  She  was," 
Brantome  had  said,  "  the  most  worthy  and  honourable  queen 
that  had  ever  been  since  Queen  Blanche,  mother  of  the  King 
Saint-Louis.  .  .  .  Her  Court  was  a  noble  school  for  ladies  ; 
she  had  them  taught  and  brought  up  wisely ;  and  all, 
taking  pattern  by  her,  made  themselves  wise  and  virtuous." 
Eoederer  takes  these  words  of  Brantome  and,  giving  them 
their  strict  meaning,  draws  therefrom  a  series  of  conse- 
quences :  just  as  Frangois  I.  had,  in  many  respects,  over- 
thrown the  political  state  of  things  estabhshed  by  Louis  XIL, 
so,  he  believes,  had  the  women  beloved  of  Frangois  over- 
turned that  honourable  condition  of  society  established  by 
Anne  de  Bretagne.  Starting  from  that  epoch  he  sees,  as  it 
were,  a  constant  struggle  between  two  sorts  of  rival  and 
incompatible  societies:  between  the  decent  and  ingenuous 
society  of  which  Anne  de  Bretagne  had  given  the  idea,  and 
the  licentious  society  of  which  the  mistresses  of  the  king, 
women  like  the  Duchesse  d'Etampes  and  Diane  de  Poitiers, 
procured  the  triumph.  These  two  societies,  to  his  mind, 
never  ceased  to  co-exist  during  the  sixteenth  century ;  on 
the  one  hand  was  an  emulation  of  virtue  and  merit  on  the 
part  of  the  noble  heiresses,  alas,  too  eclipsed,  of  Anne  de 
Bretagne,  on  the  other  an  emulation  with  high  bidding  of 


ANNE  DE  BRETAGNE,  QUEEN  OF  FRANCE.      43 

gallantry,  by  the  giddy  pupils  of  the  school  of  Frangois  I. 
To  Eoederer  the  Hotel  de  Eambouillet,  that  perfected  salon, 
founded  towards  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
is  only  a  tardy  return  to  the  traditions  of  Anne  de  Bretagne, 
the  triumph  of  merit,  virtue,  and  polite  manners  over  the 
license  to  which  all  the  kings,  from  rran9ois  I.,  including 
Henri  IV.,  had  paid  tribute. 

Eeaching  thus   the   Hotel   de   Eambouillet  and   holding 
henceforth  an  unbroken  thread  in  hand,  Eoederer  divides  and 
subdivides  at  pleasure.    He  marks  the  divers  periods  and  the 
divers  shades  of  transition,  the  growth  and  the  decline  that 
he  discerns.     The  first   years  of  Louis  XIV.'s  youth  cause 
him  some  distress  ;  a  return  is  being  made  to  the  ways  of 
Frangois  L,  to  the  brilliant  mistresses.     Ecederer,  not   con- 
cerning himself  with  the  displeasure  he  wiU  cause  the  classi- 
cists, lays  a  little  of  the  blame  for  this  return  on  the  four 
great  poets,  Molifere,  La  Fontaine,  Eacine,  and  Boileau  himself, 
all  accomplices,  more  or  less,  in  the  laudation  of  victor  and 
lover.    However,  age  comes  on ;  Louis  XIV.  grows  temperate 
in  turn,  and  a  woman,  issuing  from  the  very  purest  centre  of 
Mme.  de  Eambouillet's   society,  and  who   was  morally  its 
heiress,  a  woman  accomplished   in   tone,  in   cultivation   of 
mind,  in  precision  of  language,  and  in  the  sentiment  of  pro- 
priety, —  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  —  knows  so  well  how  to  seize 
the  opportunity  that  she  seats  upon  the  throne,  in  a  modest 
half-light,  all  the  styles  of  mind  and  merit  which  made  the 
perfection  of  French  society  in  its  better  days.    The  triumph 
of  Mme.  de  Maintenon  is  that  of  polite  society  itself ;  Anne 
de  Bretagne  has  found  her  pendant  at  the  other  extremity  of 
the  chain  after  the  lapse  of  two  centuries. 

Sainte-Beuve,  Causeries  du  Lundi,  Vol.  VIII. 


DISCOUESE  11. 

CATHEEINE    DE'    MEDICI,    QUEEN,    AND    MOTHER    OE    OUR 
LAST  KINGS. 

I  HAVE  wondered  and  been  astonished  a  liundred  times 
that,  so  many  good  writers  as  we  have  had  in  our  day  in 
France,  none  of  them  has  been  inquisitive  enough  to  make 
some  fine  selection  of  the  life  and  deeds  of  the  queen-mother, 
Catherine  de'  Medici,  inasmuch  as  she  has  furnished  ample 
matter,  and  cut  out  much  fine  work,  if  ever  a  queen  did  — 
as  said  the  Emperor  Charles  to  Paolo  Giovio  [Italian  histo- 
rian] when,  on  his  return  from  his  triumphant  voyage  in 
the  "  Goulette  "  intending  to  make  war  upon  King  Francois, 
he  gave  him  a  provision  of  ink  and  paper,  saying  he  would 
cut  him  out  plenty  of  work.  So  it  is  true  that  this  queen 
cut  out  so  much  that  a  good  and  zealous  writer  might  make 
an  Iliad  of  it ;  but  they  have  all  been  lazy,  —  or  ungrateful, 
for  she  was  never  niggardly  to  learned  men ;  I  could  name 
several  who  have  derived  good  benefits  from  this  queen,  from 
which,  in  consequence,  I  accuse  them  of  ingratitude. 

There  is  one,  however,  who  did  concern  himself  to  write 
of  her,  and  made  a  little  book  which  he  entitled  "  The  Life 
of  Catherine  ; "  ^  but  it  is  an  imposture  and  not  worthy  of 
belief,  as  she  herself  said  when  she  saw  it;  such  falsities 
being  apparent  to  every  one,  and  easy  to  note  and  reject. 
He  that  wrote  it  wished  her  mortal  harm,  and  was  an  enemy 
to  her  name,  her  condition,  her  life,  her  honour,  and  nature  ; 
and  that  is  why  he  should  be  rejected.  As  for  me,  I  would 
1  See  Appendix, 


CATHERINE  DE'  MEDICI.  45 

I  knew  how  to  speak  well,  or  that  I  had  a  good  pen,  well 
mended,  at  my  command,  that  I  might  exalt  and  praise  her 
as  she  deserves.  At  any  rate,  such  as  my  pen  is,  I  shall  now 
employ  it  at  all  hazards. 

This  queen  is  extracted,  on  the  father's  side,  from  the  race 
of  the  Medici,  one  of  the  noblest  and  most  illustrious  fami- 
nes, not  only  in  Italy,  but  in  Christendom.  Whatever  may 
be  said,  she  was  a  foreigner  to  these  shores  because  the 
alliances  of  kings  cannot  commonly  be  chosen  in  their  king- 
dom ;  for  it  is  not  best  to  do  so ;  foreign  marriages  being  as 
useful  and  more  so  than  near  ones.  The  House  of  the 
Medici  has  always  been  allied  and  confederated  with  the 
crown  of  France,  which  still  bears  the  Jleur-de-li/s  that  King 
Louis  XI.  gave  that  house  in  sign  of  alliance  and  perpetual 
confederation  [the  Jleur  de  Louis,  which  then  became  the 
Florentine  lily]. 

On  the  mother's  side  she  issued  originally  from  one  of  the 
noblest  families  of  France ;  and  so  was  truly  French  in  race, 
heart,  and  affection  through  that  great  house  of  Boulogne 
and  county  of  Auvergne  ;  thus  it  is  hard  to  tell  or  judge 
in  which  of  her  two  families  there  was  most  grandeur  and 
memorable  deeds.  Here  is  what  was  said  of  them  by  the 
Archbishop  of  Bourges,  of  the  house  of  Beaune,  as  great  a 
learned  man  and  worthy  prelate  as  there  is  in  Christendom 
(though  some  say  a  trifle  unsteady  in  belief,  and  little  good  in 
the  scales  of  M.  Saint-Michel,  who  weighs  good  Christians 
for  the  day  of  judgment,  or  so  they  say) :  it  is  given  in  the 
funeral  oration  which  the  archbishop  made  upon  the  said 
queen  at  Blois  :  — 

"  In  the  days  when  Brennus,  that  great  captain  of  the 
Gauls,  led  his  army  throughout  all  Italy  and  Greece,  there 
were  with  him  in  his  troop  two  French  nobles,  one  named 
Felsinus,  the  other  named   Bono,  who,  seeing   the  wicked 


46  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

design  of  Brennus,  after  liis  fine  conquests,  to  invade  the 
temple  of  Delphos  and  soil  himself  and  his  army  with  the 
sacrilege  of  that  temple,  withdrew,  both  of  them,  and  passed 
into  Asia  with  their  vessels  and  men,  advancing  so  far  that 
they  entered  the  sea  of  the  Medes,  which  is  near  to  Lydia 
and  Persia.  Thence,  having  made  great  conquests  and  ob- 
tained great  victories,  they  were  returning  through  Italy, 
hoping  to  reach  France,  when  Felsinus  stopped  at  a  place 
where  Florence  now  stands  beside  the  river  Arno,  which  he 
saw  to  be  fine  and  delectable,  and  situated  much  as  another 
which  had  pleased  him  much  in  the  country  of  the  Medes. 
There  he  built  a  city  which  to-day  is  Florence ;  and  his  com- 
panion. Bono,  built  another  and  named  it  Bononia,  now  called 
Bologna,  the  which  are  neighbouring  cities.  Henceforth,  in 
consequence  of  the  victories  and  conquests  of  Felsinus 
among  the  Medes,  he  was  called  Medicus  among  his  friends,  a 
name  that  remained  to  the  family ;  just  as  we  read  of  Paulus 
sumamed  Macedonicus  for  having  conquered  Macedonia  from 
Perseus,  and  Scipio  called  Africanus  for  doing  the  same  in 
Africa." 

I  do  not  know  where  M.  de  Beaune  may  have  taken  this 
history  ;  but  it  is  very  probable  that  before  the  king  and 
such  an  assembly,  there  convened  for  the  funeral  of  the 
queen,  he  would  not  have  alleged  the  fact  without  good 
authority.  This  descent  is  very  far  from  the  modern  story 
invented  and  attributed  without  grounds  to  the  family  of 
jMedici,  according  to  that  lying  book  which  I  have  men- 
tioned on  the  life  of  the  said  queen.  After  this  the  said 
Sieur  de  Beaune  says  further,  he  has  read  in  the  chronicles 
that  one  named  Everard  de'  Medici,  Sieur  of  Florence,  went, 
with  many  of  his  subjects,  to  the  assistance  of  the  voyage 
and  expedition  made  by  Charlemagne  against  Desiderius, 
King  of  the  Lombards ;  and  having  very  bravely  succoured 


CATHERINE  DE'  MEDICI.  47 

and  assisted  him,  was  confirmed  and  invested  with  the 
lordship  of  Florence.  Many  years  after,  one  Anemond  de* 
Medici,  also  Sieur  of  Florence,  went,  accompanied  by  many 
of  his  subjects,  to  the  Holy  Land,  with  Godefroy  de  Bouillon, 
where  he  died  at  the  siege  of  Nicaea  in  Asia.  Such  greatness 
always  continued  in  that  family  until  Florence  was  reduced 
to  a  republic  by  the  intestine  wars  in  Italy  between  the  em- 
perors and  the  peoples,  the  illustrious  members  of  it  mani- 
festing their  valour  and  grandeur  from  time  to  time ;  as  we 
saw  in  the  latter  days  Cosmo  de'  Medici,  who,  with  his  arms, 
his  navy,  and  vessels,  terrified  the  Turks  in  the  Mediterra- 
nean Sea  and  in  the  distant  East ;  so  that  none  since  his 
time,  however  great  he  may  be,  has  surpassed  him  in  strength 
and  valour  and  wealth,  as  Ptaffaelle  Volaterano  has  written. 

The  temples  and  sacred  shrines  by  him  built,  the  hospitals 
by  him  founded,  even  in  Jerusalem,  are  ample  proof  of  his 
piety  and  magnanimity. 

There  were  also  Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  surnamed  the  Great  for 
his  virtuous  deeds,  and  two  great  popes,  Leo  and  Clement, 
also  many  cardinals  and  grand  personages  of  the  name; 
besides  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany,  Cosmo  de'  Medici,  a 
wise  and  wary  man,  if  ever  there  was  one.  He  succeeded  in 
maintaining  himself  in  his  duchy,  which  he  found  invaded 
and  much  disturbed  when  he  came  to  it. 

In  short,  nothing  can  rob  this  house  of  the  Medici  of  its 
lustre,  very  noble  and  grand  as  it  is  in  every  way. 

As  for  the  house  of  Boulogne  and  Auvergne,  who  will  say 
that  it  is  not  great,  having  issued  originally  from  that  noble 
Eustache  de  Boulogne,  whose  brother,  Godefroy  de  Bouillon, 
bore  arms  and  escutcheons  with  so  vast  a  number  of 
princes,  seigneurs,  chevaliers,  and  Christian  soldiers,  even  to 
Jerusalem  and  the  Sepulchre  of  our  Saviour ;  and  would  have 
made  himself,  by  his  sword  and  the  favour  of  God,  king,  not 


48  THE   BOOK  OF  THE   LADIES. 

only  of  Jerusalem  but  of  the  greater  part  of  the  East,  to  the 
confusion  of  Mahomet.,  the  Saracens,  and  the  Mahometans, 
amazing  all  the  rest  of  the  world  and  replanting  Christianity 
in  Asia,  where  it  had  fallen  to  the  lowest  ? 

For  the  rest,  this  house  has  ever  been  sought  in  alliance 
by  all  the  monarchies  of  Christendom  and  the  great  families  ; 
such  as  France,  England,  Scotland,  Hungary,  and  Portugal, 
which  latter  kingdom  belonged  to  it  of  right,  as  I  have  heard 
President  de  Thou  say,  and  as  the  queen  herself  did  me  the 
honour  to  tell  me  at  Bordeaux  when  she  heard  of  the  death 
of  King  Sebastian  [in  Morocco,  1578],  the  Medici  being 
received  to  argue  the  justice  of  their  rights  at  the  last 
Assembly  of  States  before  the  decease  of  King  Henry  [in 
1580].  This  was  why  she  armed  M.  de  Strozzi  to  make  an 
invasion,  the  King  of  Spain  having  usurped  the  kingdom ; 
she  was  arrested  in  so  fine  a  course  only  by  reasons  which  1 
will  explain  at  another  time. 

I  leave  you  to  suppose,  therefore,  whether  this  house 
of  Boulogne  was  great ;  yes,  so  great  that  I  once  heard  Pope 
Pius  IV.  say,  sitting  at  table  at  a  dinner  he  gave  after  his 
election  to  the  Cardinals  of  Ferrara  and  Guise,  his  creations, 
that  the  house  of  Boulogne  was  so  great  and  noble  he  knew 
none  in  France,  whatever  it  was,  that  could  surpass  it  in 
antiquity,  valour,  and  grandeur. 

All  this  is  much  against  those  malicious  detractors  who 
have  said  that  this  queen  was  a  Florentine  of  low  birth. 
Moreover,  she  was  not  so  poor  but  what  she  brought  to 
France  in  marriage  estates  which  are  worth  to-day  twenty -six 
thousand  lirres,  —  such  as  the  counties  of  Auvergne  and  Laura- 
gais,  the  seigneuries  of  Leverons,  iJonzenac,  Boussac,  Gorr^ges, 
Hondecourt  and  other  lands,  —  all  an  inheritance  from  her 
mother.  Besides  which,  her  dowry  was  of  more  than  two 
hundred  thousand  ducats,  which  are  worth  to-day  over  four 


CATHERINE  DE'  MEDICI.  49 

hundred  thousand ;  with  great  quantities  of  furniture,  precious 
stones,  jewels,  and  other  riches,  such  as  the  finest  and  largest 
pearls  ever  seen  in  so  great  a  number,  which  she  afterwards 
gave  to  her  daughter-in-law,  the  Queen  of  Scotland  [Mary 
Stuart],  whom  I  have  seen  wearing  them. 

Besides  all  this,  many  estates,  houses,  deeds,  and  claims  in 
Italy. 

But  more  than  all  else,  through  her  marriage  the  affairs  of 
France,  which  had  been  so  shaken  by  the  imprisonment  of 
the  king  and  his  losses  at  Milan  and  Naples,  began  to  get 
firmer.  King  Frangois  was  very  willing  to  say  that  the  mar- 
riage had  served  his  interests.  Therefore  there  was  given  to 
this  queen  for  her  device  a  rainbow,  which  she  bore  as  long 
as  she  was  married,  with  these  words  in  Greek  ^w?  ^ipec 
T/Se  yaXijvTjv.  Which  is  the  same  as  saying  that  just  as  this 
fire  and  bow  in  the  sky  brings  and  signifies  good  weather 
after  rain,  so  this  queen  was  a  true  sign  of  clearness,  serenity, 
and  the  tranquillity  of  peace.  The  Greek  is  thus  translated : 
Lucem  fert  et  serenitatem  — • "  She  brings  light  and  serenity." 

After  that,  the  emperor  [Charles  V.]  dared  push  no  longer 
his  ambitious  motto :  "  Ever  farther."  For,  although  there 
was  truce  between  himself  and  King  Francois,  he  was  nurs- 
ing his  ambition  with  the  design  of  gaining  always  from 
France  whatever  he  could  ;  and  he  was  much  astonished  at 
this  alliance  with  the  pope  [Clement  VII.],  regarding  the  lat- 
ter as  able,  courageous,  and  vindictive  for  his  imprisonment 
by  the  imperial  forces  at  the  sack  of  Eome  [1527].  Such  a 
marriage  displeased  him  so  much  that  I  have  heard  a  truthful 
lady  of  the  Court  say  that  if  he  had  not  been  married  to  the 
empress,  he  would  have  seized  an  alliance  with  the  pope  him- 
self and  espoused  his  niece  [Catherine  de'  Medici],  as  much 
for  the  support  of  so  strong  a  party  as  because  he  feared  the 
pope  would  assist  in  making  him  lose  Naples,  Milan,  and 

4 


50  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

Genoa;  for  the  pope  had  promised  King  Francois,  in  an 
authentic  document,  when  he  delivered  to  him  the  money  of 
his  niece's  dowry  and  her  rings  and  jewels,  to  make  the  dowry 
worthy  of  such  a  marriage  by  the  addition  of  three  pearls  of 
inestimable  value,  of  the  excessive  splendour  of  which  all  the 
greatest  kings  were  envious  and  covetous ;  the  which  were 
Naples,  Milan,  and  Genoa.  And  it  is  not  to  be  doubted  that 
if  the  said  pope  had  lived  out  his  natural  life  he  would  have 
sold  the  emperor  well,  and  made  him  pay  dear  for  that  im- 
prisonment, in  order  to  aggrandize  his  niece  and  the  kingdom 
to  which  she  was  joined.  But  Clement  VII.  died  young,  and 
all  this  profit  came  to  nought. 

So  now  our  queen,  having  lost  her  mother,  Magdelaine  de 
Boulogne,  and  Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  Duke  of  Urbino,  her 
father,  in  early  life,  was  married  by  her  good  uncle  the  pope 
to  France,  whither  she  was  brought  by  sea  to  Marseille  in 
great  triumph ;  and  her  wedding  was  pompously  performed, 
at  the  age  of  fourteen.  She  made  herself  so  beloved  by  the 
king,  her  father-in-law,  and  by  King  Henri,  her  husband 
[not  king  till  the  death  of  Francois  I.],  that  on  remaining  ten 
years  without  producing  issue,  and  many  persons  endeavouring 
to  persuade  the  king  and  the  dauphin,  her  husband,  to  repu- 
diate her  because  there  was  such  need  of  an  heir  to  France, 
neither  the  one  nor  the  other  would  consent  because  they 
loved  her  so  much.  But  after  ten  years,  in  accordance  with 
the  natural  habit  of  the  women  of  the  race  of  Medici,  who 
are  tardy  in  conceiving,  she  began  by  producing  the  little 
King  Francois  II.  After  that,  was  born  the  Queen  of 
Spain,  and  then,  consecutively,  that  fine  and  illustrious 
progeny  w^hom  we  have  all  seen,  and  also  others  no  sooner 
born  than  dead,  by  great  misfortune  and  fatality.  All  this 
caused  the  king,  her  husband,  to  love  her  more  and  more, 
and  in  such  a  way  that  he,  who  was  of  an  amorous  tempera- 


CATHERINE  DE'  MEDICI.  51 

ment,  and  greatly  liked  to  make  love  and  to  change  his  loves, 
said  often  that  of  all  the  women  in  the  world  there  was  none 
like  his  wife  for  that,  and  he  did  not  know  her  equal.  He 
had  reason  to  say  so,  for  she  was  truly  a  beautiful  and  most 
amiable  princess. 

She  was  of  rich  and  very  fine  presence ;  of  great  majesty, 
but  very  gentle  when  need  was;  of  noble  appearance  and 
good  grace,  her  face  handsome  and  agreeable,  her  bosom 
very  beautiful,  white  and  full ;  her  body  also  very  white, 
the  flesh  beautiful,  the  skin  smooth,  as  I  have  heard  from 
several  of  her  ladies ;  of  a  fine  plumpness  also,  the  leg  and 
thigh  very  beautiful  (as  I  have  heard,  too,  from  the  same 
ladies) ;  and  she  took  great  pleasure  in  being  well  shod  and 
in  having  her  stockings  well  and  tightly  drawn  up. 

Besides  all  this,  the  most  beautiful  hand  that  was  ever 
seen,  as  I  believe.  Once  upon  a  time  the  poets  praised 
Aurora  for  her  fine  hands  and  beautiful  fingers ;  but  I  think 
our  queen  would  etface  her  in  that,  and  she  guarded  and 
maintained  that  beauty  all  her  life.  The  king,  her  son, 
Henri  III.,  inherited  much  of  this  beauty  of  the  hand. 

She  always  clothed  herself  well  and  superbly,  often  with 
some  pretty  and  new  invention.  In  short,  she  had  many 
charms  in  herself  to  make  her  beloved.  I  remember  that 
one  day  at  Lyons  she  went  to  see  a  painter  named  Corneille, 
who  had  painted  in  a  large  room  all  the  great  seigneurs, 
princes,  cavaliers,  queens,  princesses,  ladies  of  the  Court,  and 
damoiselles.  Being  in  the  said  room  of  these  portraits  we 
saw  there  our  queen,  painted  very  well  in  all  her  beauty 
and  perfection,  apparelled  ^  la  Frangaise  in  a  cap  and  her 
great  pearls,  and  a  gown  with  wide  sleeves  of  silver  tissue 
furred  with  lynx,  —  the  whole  so  well  represented  to  the  life 
that  only  speech  was  lacking  ;  her  three  fine  daughters  were 
beside  her.    She  took  great  pleasure  at  the  sight,  and  all  the 


52  THE  BOOK  OF  THE   L^ADIES. 

company  there  present  did  the  same,  praising  and  admiring 
her  beauty  above  all.  She  herself  was  so  ravished  by  the 
contemplation  that  she  could  not  take  her  eyes  from  the 
picture  until  M.  de  Nemours  came  to  her  and  said :  "  Madame, 
I  think  you  are  there  so  well  portrayed  that  nothing  more 
can  be  said ;  and  it  seems  to  me  that  your  daughters  do  you 
proper  honour,  for  they  do  not  go  before  you  or  surpass  you." 
To  this  she  answered :  "  My  cousin,  I  think  you  can  re- 
member the  time,  the  age,  and  the  dress  of  this  picture  ;  so 
that  you  can  judge  better  than  any  of  this  company,  for 
you  saw  me  like  that,  whether  I  was  estimated  such  as  you 
say,  and  whether  I  ever  was  as  I  there  appear."  There  was 
not  one  in  the  company  that  did  not  praise  and  estimate 
that  beauty  highly,  and  say  that  the  mother  was  worthy 
of  the  daughters,  and  the  daughters  of  the  mother.  And 
such  beauty  lasted  her,  married  and  widowed,  almost  to  her 
death ;  not  that  she  was  as  fresh  as  in  her  more  blooming 
years,  but  always  well  preserved,  very  desirable  and  agreeable. 

For  the  rest,  she  was  very  good  company  and  of  gay 
humour ;  loving  all  honourable  exercises,  such  as  dancing,  in 
which  she  had  great  grace  and  majesty. 

She  also  loved  hunting  ;  about  which  I  heard  a  lady  of 
the  Court  tell  this  tale :  King  Francois,  having  chosen  and 
made  a  company  which  was  called  "  the  little  band  of  tlie 
Court  ladies,"  the  handsomest,  daintiest,  and  most  favoured, 
often  escaped  from  the  Court  and  went  to  other  houses  to 
hunt  the  stag  and  pass  his  time,  sometimes  staying  thus 
withdrawn  eight  days,  ten  days,  sometimes  more  and  some- 
times less,  as  the  humour  took  him.  Our  queen  (who  was 
then  only  Mme.  la  dauphine)  seeing  such  parties  made  with- 
out her,  and  that  even  Mesdames  her  sisters-in-law  were  there 
while  she  stayed  at  home,  made  prayer  to  the  king,  to  take 
her  always  with  him,  and  to  do  her  the  honour  to  permit 
that  she  should  never  budfje  without  him. 


CATHERINE  DE'  MEDICL  53 

It  was  said  that  she,  being  very  shrewd  and  clever,  did 
this  as  much  or  more  to  see  the  king's  actions  and  get  his 
secrets  and  hear  and  know  all  things,  as  from  liking  for  the 
hunt. 

King  Francois  was  pleased  with  this  request,  for  it  showed 
the  good-will  that  she  had  for  his  company ;  and  he  granted 
it  heartily ;  so  that  besides  loving  her  naturally  he  now 
loved  her  more,  and  delighted  in  giving  her  pleasure  in  the 
hunt,  at  which  she  never  left  his  side,  but  followed  him  at 
full  speed.  She  was  very  good  on  horseback  and  bold; 
sitting  with  ease,  and  being  the  first  to  put  the  leg  around 
a  pommel ;  which  was  far  more  graceful  and  becoming 
than  sitting  with  the  feet  upon  a  plank.  Till  she  was  sixty 
years  of  age  and  over  she  liked  to  ride  on  horseback,  and 
after  her  weakness  prevented  her  she  pined  for  it.  It  was 
one  of  her  greatest  pleasures  to  ride  far  and  fast,  though  she 
fell  many  times  with  damage  to  her  body,  breaking  her  leg 
once,  and  wounding  her  head,  which  had  to  be  trepanned. 
After  she  was  widowed  and  had  charge  of  the  king  and  the 
kingdom,  she  took  the  king  always  with  her,  and  her  other 
children ;  but  while  her  husband,  King  Henri,  lived,  she 
usually  went  with  him  to  the  meet  of  the  stag  and  the  other 
hunts. 

If  he  played  at  pall-mall  she  watched  him  play,  and  played 
herself.  She  was  very  fond  of  shooting  with  a  cross-bow 
ct  jalct  [ball  of  stone],  and  she  shot  right  well;  so  that 
always  when  she  went  to  ride  her  cross-bow  was  taken 
with  her,  and  if  she  saw  any  game,  she  shot  it. 

She  was  ever  inventing  some  new  dance  or  beautiful  ballet 
when  the  weather  was  bad.  Also  she  invented  games  and 
passed  her  time  with  one  and  another  intimately  ;  but  always 
appearing  very  grave  and  austere  when  necessary. 

She  was  fond  of  seeing  comedies  and  tragedies ;  but  after 


54  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

"  Sophonisbe,"  a  tragedy  composed  by  M.  de  Saint-Gdlais.  was 
very  well  represented  by  her  daughters  and  other  ladies  and 
damoiselles  and  gentlemen  of  her  Court,  at  Blois  for  the 
marriages  of  M.  du  Cypi^re  and  the  Marquis  d'Elboeuf,  she 
took  an  opinion  that  it  was  harmful  to  the  affairs  of  the  king- 
dom, and  woiild  never  have  tragedies  played  again.  But  she 
listened  readily  to  comedies  and  tragi-comedies,  and  even 
those  of  "  Zaui "  and  "  Pantaloon,"  taking  great  pleasure  in 
them,  and  laughing  with  all  her  heart  like  any  other ;  for  she 
liked  laughter,  and  her  natural  self  was  jovial,  loving  a  witty 
word  and  ready  with  it,  knowing  well  when  to  cast  her  speech 
and  her  stone,  and  when  to  withhold  them. 

She  passed  her  time  in  the  afternoons  at  work  on  her  silk 
embroideries,  in  which  she  was  as  perfect  as  possible.  In 
short,  this  queen  liked  and  gave  herself  up  to  all  honourable 
exercises ;  and  there  was  not  one  that  was  worthy  of  herself 
and  her  sex  that  she  did  not  wish  to  know  and  practise. 

There  is  what  I  can  say,  speaking  briefly  and  avoiding  pro- 
lixity, about  the  beauty  of  her  body  and  her  occupations. 

When  she  called  any  one  "  my  friend "  it  was  either 
that  she  thought  him  a  fool,  or  she  was  angry  with  him. 
This  was  so  well  known  that  she  had  a  serving  gentleman 
named  M.  de  Bois-Fevrier,  who  made  reply  when  she  called 
him  "  my  friend " :  "  Ha !  madame,  I  would  rather  you 
called  me  your  enemy;  for  to  call  me  your  friend  is  as 
good  as  saying  I  am  a  fool,  or  that  you  are  in  anger  against 
me ;  for  I  know  your  nature  this  long  time." 

As  for  lier  mind,  it  was  very  great  and  very  admirable,  as 
was  shown  in  so  many  fine  and  signal  acts  by  which  her  life 
has  been  made  illustrious  forever.  The  king,  her  husband, 
and  his  council  esteemed  her  so  much  that  when  the  king 
went  his  journey  to  Germany,  out  of  liis  kingdom,  he  estab- 
lished and  ordered  her  as  regent  and  ":uvernor  throughout 


CATHERINE  DE'  MEDICI.  55 

his  dominions  during  his  absence,  by  a  declaration  solemnly 
made  before  a  full  parliament  in  Paris.  And  in  this  office 
she  behaved  so  wisely  that  there  was  no  disturbance,  change, 
or  alteration  in  the  State  by  reason  of  the  king's  absence ; 
but,  on  the  contrary,  she  looked  so  carefully  to  business  that 
she  assisted  the  king  with  money,  means,  and  men,  and  other 
kinds  of  succour ;  which  helped  him  much  for  his  return,  and 
even  for  the  conquest  which  he  made  of  cities  in  the  duchy 
of  Luxembourg,  such  as  Yvoy,  Montmedy,  Dampvilliers, 
Chimay,  and  others. 

I  leave  you  to  think  how  he  who  wrote  that  fine  life  I 
spoke  of  detracted  from  her  in  saying  that  never  did  the  king, 
her  husband,  allow  her  to  put  her  nose  into  matters  of  State. 
Was  not  making  her  regent  in  his  absence  giving  her  ample 
occasion  to  have  full  knowledge  of  them  ?  And  it  was  thus 
she  did  during  all  the  journeys  that  he  made  yearly  in  going 
to  his  armies. 

What  did  she  after  the  battle  of  Saint-Laurens,  when 
the  State  was  shaken  and  the  king  had  gone  to  Compifegne 
to  raise  a  new  army?  She  so  espoused  affairs  that  she 
roused  and  excited  the  gentlemen  of  Paris  to  give  prompt 
succour  to  their  king,  which  came  most  apropos,  both  in 
money  and  in  other  things  very  necessary  in  war. 

Also,  when  the  king  was  wounded,  those  who  were  of  that 
time  and  saw  it  cannot  be  ignorant  of  the  great  care  she  took 
for  Ms  cure :  the  watches  she  made  beside  him  without  ever 
sleeping ;  the  prayers  with  which,  time  after  time,  she  im- 
portuned God ;  the  processions  and  visitation  of  churches 
which  she  made ;  and  the  posts  which  she  sent  about  every- 
where inquiring  for  doctors  and  surgeons.  But  his  hour  had 
come ;  and  when  he  passed  from  this  world  into  the  other, 
she  made  such  lamentations  and  shed  such  tears  that  never  did 
she  stanch  them ;  and  in  memory  of  him,  whenever  he  was 


56  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

spoken  of  as  long  as  she  lived,  they  gushed  from  the  depths 
of  her  eyes  ;  so  that  she  took  a  device  proper  and  suitable  to 
her  tears  and  her  mourning,  namely  :  a  mound  of  quicklime, 
on  which  the  drops  of  heaven  fell  abundantly,  with  these 
words  writ  in  Latin:  Adorem  extincta  testantur  vivere 
Jlamma ;  the  drops  of  water,  like  her  tears,  showing  ardour, 
though  the  flame  was  extinct.  This  device  takes  its  allegory 
from  the  nature  of  quicklime,  which,  being  watered,  burns 
strangely  and  shows  its  fire  though  flame  is  not  there.  Thus 
did  our  queen  show  her  ardour  and  her  affection  by  her 
tears,  though  flame,  which  was  her  husband,  was  now  ex- 
tinct ;  and  this  was  as  much  as  to  say  that,  dead  as  he  was, 
she  made  it  appear  by  her  tears  that  she  could  never  forget 
him,  but  should  love  him  always. 

A  like  device  was  borne  in  former  days  by  Madame  Valen- 
tine de  Milan,  Duchesse  d'Orleans,  after  the  death  of  her 
husband,  killed  in  Paris,  for  which  she  had  such  great  re- 
gret that  for  all  comfort  and  solace  in  her  moaning,  she 
took  a  watering-pot  for  her  device,  on  the  top  of  which  was 
an  S,  in  sign,  so  they  say,  of  seule,  souvenir,  soucis,  soujpirer, 
and  around  the  said  watering-pot  were  written  these  words : 
Hien  ne  m'est  jplus  ;  plus  ne  m'est  rien  —  "  Nought  is  more  to 
me  ;  more  is  to  me  nothing."  This  device  can  still  be  seen 
in  her  chapel  in  the  church  of  the  Franciscans  at  Blois. 

The  good  King  Een^  of  Sicily,  having  lost  liis  wife  Isabel, 
Duchesse  de  Lorraine,  suffered  such  great  grief  that  never 
did  he  truly  rejoice  again;  and  when  his  intimate  friends 
and  favourites  urged  him  to  consolation  he  led  them  to  his 
cabinet  and  showed  them,  painted  by  his  own  hand  (for  he 
was  an  excellent  painter),  a  Turkish  bow  with  its  string  un- 
strung, beneath  which  was  written :  Arco  per  lentare  jnaga 
nonsana — "The  bow  although  unstrung  heals  not  the  wound." 
Then   he   said   to   them :   "  My   friends,   with   this   picture 


CATHERINE  DE'    MEDICI.  57 

I  answer  all  your  reasons:  by  unstringing  a  bow  or 
breaking  its  string,  the  harm  thus  done  by  the  arrow  may 
quickly  be  mended,  but,  the  life  of  my  dear  spouse  being  by 
death  extinct  and  broken,  the  wound  of  the  loyal  love  —  the 
which,  her  living,  filled  my  heart  —  cannot  be  cured."  And 
in  various  places  in  Angers  we  see  these  Turkish  bows  with 
broken  strings  and  beneath  them  the  same  words,  Arco  -per 
lentare  piaga  non  sana  ;  even  at  the  Franciscan  church,  in 
the  chapel  of  Saint-Bernardin  which  he  caused  to  be  deco- 
rated. This  device  he  took  after  the  death  of  his  wife ;  for 
in  her  lifetime  he  bore  another. 

Our  queen,  around  her  device  which  I  have  told  of, 
placed  many  trophies:  broken  mirrors  and  fans,  crushed 
plumes,  and  pearls,  jewels  scattered  to  earth,  and  chains  in 
pieces ;  the  whole  in  sign  of  quitting  worldly  pomp,  her 
husband  being  dead,  for  whom  her  mourning  never  was 
remitted.  And,  without  the  grace  of  God  and  the  fortitude 
with  which  he  had  endowed  her,  she  would  surely  have  suc- 
cumbed to  such  great  sadness  and  distress.  Besides,  she  saw 
that  her  young  children  and  France  had  need  of  her,  as  we 
have  since  seen  by  experience;  for,  like  a  Semiramis,  or 
second  Athalie,  she  foiled,  saved,  guarded,  and  preserved  her 
said  young  children  from  many  enterprises  planned  against 
them  in  their  early  years ;  and  this  with  so  much  industry 
and  prudence  that  everybody  thought  her  wonderful  She, 
being  regent  of  the  kingdom  after  the  death  of  her  son  King 
Francois  during  the  minority  of  our  king  by  the  ordering  of 
the  Estates  of  Orleans,  imposed  her  will  upon  the  King 
of  Navarre,  who,  as  premier  prince  of  the  blood,  wished  to 
be  regent  in  her  place  and  govern  all  things ;  but  she  gained 
so  well  and  so  dexterously  the  said  Estates  that  if  the  said 
King  of  Navarre  had  not  gone  elsewhere  she  would  have 
caused   him  to   be  attainted   of  the  crime    of   lese-inajcste. 


58  THE  BOOK  OF  THE   LADIES. 

And  possibly  she  would  still  have  done  so  for  the  actions 
which,  it  was  said,  he  made  the  Prince  de  Conde  do  about 
those  Estates,  but  for  Mme.  de  Montpeusier,  who  governed 
her  much.  So  the  said  king  was  forced  to  content  himself 
to  be  under  her.  Now  there  is  one  of  the  shrewd  and  subtle 
deeds  she  did  in  her  beginning. 

Afterwards  she  knew  how  to  maintain  her  rank  and  au- 
thority so  imperiously  that  no  one  dared  gainsay  it,  however 
grand  and  disturbing  he  was,  for  a  period  of  three  months 
when,  the  Court  being  at  Fontainebleau,  the  said  King  of 
Navarre,  wishing  to  show  his  feelings,  took  offence  because 
M.  de  Guise  ordered  the  keys  of  the  king's  house  brought  to 
him  every  evening,  and  kept  them  all  night  in  his  room  like 
a  grand-master  (for  that  is  one  of  his  offices),  so  that  no  one 
could  go  out  without  his  permission.  This  angered  the  King 
of  Navarre,  who  wished  to  keep  the  keys  himself ;  but,  being 
refused,  he  grew  spiteful  and  mutinied  in  such  a  way  that 
one  morning  suddenly  he  came  to  take  leave  of  the  king 
and  queen,  intending  to  depart  from  the  Court,  taking  with 
him  all  the  princes  of  the  blood  whom  he  had  won  over, 
together  with  M.  le  Conn^table  de  Montmorency  and  his 
children  and  nephew. 

The  queen,  who  did  not  in  any  way  expect  this  step,  was 
at  first  much  astonished,  and  tried  all  she  could  to  ward  off 
the  blow,  giving  good  hope  to  the  King  of  Navarre  that  if 
he  were  patient  he  would  some  day  be  satisfied.  But  fine 
words  gained  her  nothing  with  the  said  king,  who  was  set 
on  departing.  WTiereupon  the  queen  bethought  her  of  this 
subtle  point :  she  sent  and  gave  commandment  to  M.  le 
conn^table,  as  the  principal,  first,  and  oldest  officer  of  the 
crown,  to  stay  near  the  king,  his  master,  as  his  duty  and 
office  demanded,  and  not  to  leave  him.  M.  le  conndtable, 
wise   and   judicious  as  he  was,  being  very  zealous  for  his 


CATHERINE  DE'  MEDICI.  59 

master  and  careful  of  his  grandeur  and  honour,  after  reflect- 
ing on  his  duty  and  the  command  sent  to  him,  went  to 
see  the  king  and  present  himself  as  ready  to  fulfil  his 
office ;  which  greatly  astonished  the  King  of  Navarre,  who 
was  on  the  point  of  mounting  his  horse  expecting  M.  le 
conndtable,  who  came  instead  to  represent  his  duty  and 
office  and  to  persuade  him  not  to  budge  himself  nor  to  de- 
part ;  and  did  this  so  well  that  the  King  of  Navarre  went 
to  see  the  king  and  queen  at  the  instigation  of  the  connd- 
table,  and  having  conferred  with  their  Majesties,  his  journey 
was  given  up  and  his  mules  were  countermanded,  they  having 
then  arrived  at  Melun.  So  all  was  pacified  to  the  great  content 
of  the  King  of  Navarre.  Not  that  M.  de  Guise  diminished  in 
any  way  his  office,  or  yielded  one  atom  of  his  honour,  for 
he  kept  his  pre-eminence  and  all  that  belonged  to  him,  with- 
out being  shaken  in  the  least,  although  he  was  not  the 
stronger ;  but  he  was  a  man  of  the  world  in  such  things, 
who  was  never  bewildered,  but  knew  very  well  how  to  brave 
all  and  hold  his  rank  and  keep  what  he  had. 

It  is  not  to  be  doubted,  as  all  the  world  knows,  that,  if  the 
queen  had  not  bethought  her  of  this  ruse  regarding  M.  le 
conndtable,  all  that  party  would  have  gone  to  Paris  and 
stirred  up  things  to  our  injury ;  for  which  reason  great  praise 
should  be  given  to  the  queen  for  this  shift.  I  know,  for  I  was 
there,  that  many  persons  said  it  was  not  of  her  invention,  but 
that  of  Cardinal  de  Tournon,  a  wise  and  judicious  prelate ;  but 
that  is  false,  for,  old  stager  though  he  was,  i'  faith  the  queen 
knew  more  of  wiles  than  he,  or  all  the  council  of  the  king 
together;  for  very  often,  when  he  was  at  fault,  she  would 
help  him  and  put  him  on  the  traces  of  what  he  ought  to 
know,  of  which  I  might  produce  a  number  of  examples ;  but 
it  will  be  enough  to  give  this  instance,  which  is  fresh,  and 
which  she  herself  did  me  the  honour  to  disclose  to  me.  It  is 
as  follows :  — 


60  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

When  she  went  to  Guyenne,  and  lately  to  Coignac,  to  recon- 
cile the  princes  of  the  Eeligion  and  those  of  the  League,  and 
so  put  the  kingdom  in  peace,  for  she  saw  it  would  soon  be 
ruined  by  such  divisions,  she  determined  to  proclaim  a  truce 
in  order  to  treat  of  this  peace ;  at  which  the  King  of  Navarre 
and  the  Prince  de  Conde  were  very  discontent  and  mutinous, 
—  all  the  more,  they  said,  because  this  proclamation  did  them 
great  harm  on  account  of  their  foreigners,  who,  having  heard 
of  it,  might  repent  of  their  coming,  or  delay  it;  and  they 
accused  the  said  queen  of  having  made  it  with  that  intention. 
So  they  said  and  resolved  not  to  see  the  queen,  and  not  to 
treat  with  her  unless  the  said  truce  were  rescinded.  Xow 
finding  her  council,  whom  she  had  with  her,  though  com- 
posed of  good  heads,  very  ridiculous  and  little  to  be  honoured 
because  they  thought  it  impossible  to  find  means  to  rescind 
the  said  truce,  the  queen  said  to  them  :  "  Truly,  you  are  very 
stupid  as  to  the  remedy.  Know  you  not  better  ?  There  is 
but  one  means  for  that.  You  have  at  Maillezais  the  regiment 
of  Neufvy  and  de  Sorlu,  Huguenots  ;  send  me  from  here,  from 
Niort,  all  the  arquebusiers  that  you  can,  and  cut  them  to  pieces, 
and  there  you  have  the  truce  rescinded  and  undone  without 
further  trouble."  As  she  commanded  so  it  was  executed ; 
the  arquebusiers  started,  led  by  the  Capitaine  I'Estelle,  and 
forced  their  fort  and  their  barricades  so  well  that  there  they 
were  quite  defeated,  Sorlu  killed,  who  was  a  valiant  man, 
Neufvy  taken  prisoner  with  many  others,  and  all  their  ban- 
ners captured  and  brought  to  Niort  to  the  queen  ;  who,  using 
her  accustomed  turn  of  clemency,  pardoned  all  and  sent  them 
away  with  their  ensigns  and  even  with  their  flags,  which,  as 
regards  the  flags,  is  a  very  rare  thing.  But  she  chose  to  do 
this  stroke,  rare  or  not,  so  she  told  me,  to  the  princes ;  who 
now  knew  they  had  to  do  with  a  very  able  princess,  and  that 
it  was  not  to  her  they  sliould  address  such  mockery  as  to 


CATHERINE  DE'  MEDICI.  61 

make  her  rescind  a  truce  by  the  very  heralds  who  had  pro- 
claimed it ;  for  while  they  were  thinking  to  make  her  receive 
that  insult,  she  had  fallen  upon  them,  and  now  sent  them 
word  by  the  prisoners  that  it  was  not  for  them  to  affront  her 
by  asking  unseemly  and  unreasonable  things,  because  it  was 
in  her  power  to  do  them  both  good  and  evil. 

That  is  how  this  queen  knew  how  to  give  and  teach  a  les- 
son to  her  council.  I  might  tell  of  many  such  things,  but  I 
have  now  to  treat  of  other  points  :  the  first  of  which  must  be 
to  answer  those  whom  I  have  often  heard  say  that  she  was 
the  first  to  rouse  to  arms,  and  so  was  cause  of  our  civil  wars. 
Whoso  will  look  to  the  source  of  the  matter  will  not  believe 
that ;  for  the  triumvirate  having  been  created,  she,  seeing 
the  proceedings  which  were  preparing  and  the  change  made 
by  the  King  of  Navarre,  —  who  from  being  formerly  Huguenot 
and  very  reformed  had  made  himself  Catholic,  —  and  knowing 
that  through  that  change  she  had  reason  to  fear  for  the  king, 
the  kingdom,  and  her  own  person  that  he  would  move  against 
them,  reflected  and  puzzled  her  mind  to  discover  to  what  such 
proceedings,  meetings,  and  colloquies  held  in  secret  tended. 
Not  being  able,  as  they  say,  to  come  at  the  bottom  of  the 
pot,  she  bethought  her  one  day,  when  the  secret  council  was 
in  session  in  the  room  of  the  King  of  Navarre,  to  go  into  the 
room  above  his,  and  by  means  of  a  tube  which  she  had  caused 
to  be  slipped  surreptitiously  under  the  tapestry  she  listened 
unperceived  to  their  discourse.  Among  other  things  she 
heard  one  thing  that  was  very  terrible  and  bitter  to  her. 
The  Mardchal  de  Saint-Andr^,  one  of  the  triumvirate,  gave  it 
as  his  opinion  that  the  queen  should  be  put  in  a  sack  and 
flung  into  the  river,  for  that  otherwise  they  could  never  suc- 
ceed in  their  plans.  But  the  late  M.  de  Guise,  who  was  very 
good  and  generous,  said  that  must  not  be;  for  it  were  too 
unjust  to  make  the  wife  and  mother  of  our  kings  perish  thus 


62  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

miserably,  and  he  opposed  it  all.  For  this  the  said  queen 
has  always  loved  him,  and  proved  it  to  his  children  after  his 
death  by  giving  them  his  estates. 

I  leave  you  to  suppose  what  this  sentence  was  to  the 
queen,  having  heard  it  thus  with  her  own  ears,  and  whether 
she  had  no  occasion  for  fear,  although  she  was  thus  defended 
by  M.  de  Guise.  From  what  I  have  heard  tell  by  one  of 
her  most  intimate  ladies,  she  feared  they  would  strike  the 
blow  without  the  knowledge  of  M.  de  Guise,  as  indeed  she 
had  reason  to  do ;  for  in  deeds  so  detestable  an  upright  man 
should  always  be  distrusted,  and  the  act  not  communicated 
to  him.  She  was  thus  compelled  to  consider  her  safety,  and 
employ  those  she  saw  already  under  arms  [the  Prince  de 
Condd  and  other  Protestant  leaders],  begging  them  to  have 
pity  for  a  mother  and  her  children. 

That  is  the  whole  cause,  just  as  it  was,  of  the  civil  war. 
She  would  never  go  to  Orleans  with  the  others,  nor  give 
them  the  king  and  her  children,  as  she  could  have  done ; 
and  she  was  very  glad  that  in  the  hurly-burly  of  arms  she 
and  the  king  her  son  and  her  other  children  were  in  safety, 
as  was  reasonable.  Moreover,  she  requested  and  held  the 
promise  of  the  others  that  whenever  she  should  summon 
them  to  lay  down  their  arms  they  would  do  so ;  which, 
nevertheless,  they  would  not  do  when  the  time  came,  no 
matter  what  appeals  she  made  to  them,  and  what  pains  she 
took,  and  the  great  heat  she  endured  at  Talsy,  to  induce 
them  to  listen  to  the  peace  she  could  have  made  good  and 
secured  for  all  France  had  they  then  listened  to  her ;  and 
this  great  fire  and  others  we  have  since  seen  lighted  from 
this  first  brand  would  have  been  forever  extinguished  in 
France  if  they  would  then  have  trusted  her.  I  know  what 
I  myself  have  heard  her  say,  with  the  tears  in  her  eyes,  and 
with  what  zeal  she  endeavoured  to  do  it. 


CATHERINE   DE'  MEDICL  G'^) 

This  is  why  they  cannot  charge  her  with  the  first  spark 
of  the  civil  war,  nor  yet  with  the  second,  which  was  the  day 
of  Meaux ;  for  at  that  time  she  was  thinking  only  of  a  hunt, 
and  of  giving  pleasure  to  the  king  in  her  beautiful  house  at 
Monceaux.  The  warning  came  that  M.  le  Prince  and  others 
of  the  Eeligion  were  in  arms  and  advancing  to  surprise  and 
seize  the  king  under  colour  of  presenting  a  request.  God 
knows  who  was  the  cause  of  this  new  disturbance,  and  with- 
out the  six  thousand  Swiss  then  lately  raised,  who  knows 
what  might  have  happened  ?  This  levy  of  Swiss  was  only  the 
pretext  of  their  taking  up  arms,  and  of  saying  and  publishing 
that  it  was  done  to  force  them  to  war.  In  fact  it  was  they, 
themselves,  as  I  know  from  being  at  Court,  who  requested 
that  levy  of  the  king  and  queen,  on  the  passage  of  the  Duke 
of  Alba  and  his  army,  fearing  that  under  colour  of  reaching 
Flanders  he  might  descend  upon  the  frontiers  of  France ; 
and  they  urged  that  it  was  the  custom  to  arm  the  frontiers 
whenever  a  neighbouring  State  was  arming.  No  one  can  be 
ignorant  how  urgent  for  this  they  were  to  the  king  and 
queen  by  letters  and  embassies,  —  even  M.  le  Prince  himself 
and  M.  I'amiral  [Coligny]  coming  to  see  the  king  on  this 
subject  at  Saint-Germain-en-Laye,  where  I  saw  them. 

I  would  also  like  to  ask  (for  all  that  I  write  here  I  saw 
myself)  who  it  was  who  took  up  arms  on  Shrove  Tuesday, 
and  who  suborned  and  solicited  ]\Ionsieur  the  king's  brother, 
and  the  King  of  Navarre,  to  give  ear  to  the  enterprises  for 
which  Mole  and  Coconas  were  executed  in  Paris.  It  was 
not  the  queen,  for  it  was  by  her  prudence  that  she  prevented 
them  from  uprising,  —  by  keeping  Monsieur  and  the  King  of 
Navarre  so  locked  in  to  the  forest  of  Vincennes  that  they 
could  not  get  out;  and  on  the  death  of  King  Charles  she 
held  them  so  tightly  in  Paris  and  the  Louvre,  barring  their 
windows  one  morning,  —  at  any  rate  those  of  the  King  of 


64  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

Xavarre,  who  was  lodged  on  the  lower  floor  (the  King  of 
Navarre,  told  me  this  himself  with  tears  in  his  eyes),  —  that 
they  could  not  escape  as  they  intended,  which  would  greatly 
have  embroiled  the  State  and  prevented  the  return  of  Poland 
to  the  King,  which  was  what  they  were  after.  I  know  all 
this  from  having  been  invited  to  the  fricassee,  which  was  one 
of  the  finest  strokes  ever  made  by  the  queen.  Starting  from 
Paris  she  conducted  them  to  Lyons  to  meet  the  king  so  dex- 
terously that  no  one  who  saw  them  would  ever  have  sup- 
posed them  prisoners  ;  they  went  in  the  same  coach  with  her, 
and  she  presented  them  herself  to  the  king,  who,  on  his 
side,  pardoned  them  soon  after. 

Also,  who  was  it  that  enticed  Monsieur  the  king's  brother 
to  leave  Paris  one  fine  night  and  the  company  of  his  brother 
who  loved  him  well,  and  whose  affection  he  cast  off  to  go 
and  take  up  arms  and  embroil  all  France  ?  M.  de  La  None 
knows  well,  and  also  the  secret  plots  that  began  at  the  siege 
of  Eochelle,  and  what  I  said  to  him  about  them.  It  was 
not  the  queen-mother,  for  she  felt  such  grief  at  seeing  one 
brother  banded  against  another  brother  and  his  king,  that 
she  swore  she  would  die  of  it,  or  else  replace  and  reunite  them 
as  before  —  which  she  did ;  for  I  heard  her  say  at  Blois,  in 
conversation  with  Monsieur,  that  she  prayed  for  nothing  so 
much  as  that  God  would  grant  her  the  favour  of  that  re- 
union, after  which  he  might  send  her  death  and  she  would 
accept  it  with  all  her  heart ;  or  else  she  would  gladly  retire 
to  her  houses  of  Monceaux  and  Chenonceaux,  and  never 
mix  further  in  the  affairs  of  France,  wishing  to  end  her  days 
in  tranquillity.  In  fact,  she  truly  wished  to  do  the  latter ; 
but  the  king  implored  her  to  abstain,  for  he  and  his  kingdom 
had  great  need  of  her.  I  am  assured  that  if  she  had  not 
made  this  peace  at  that  time,  all  was  over  with  France,  for 
there  were  in  the  country  fifty  thousand  foreigners,  from 


CATHERINE   DE'   MEDICI.  65 

one  region  or  another,  who  would  have  aided  in  humbling 
and  destroying  her. 

It  was,  therefore,  not  the  queen  who  called  to  arms  at  this 
time  to  satisfy  the  State-Assembly  at  Blois,  the  which,  want- 
ing but  one  religion  and  proposing  to  abolish  that  which  was 
contrary  to  their  own,  demanded,  if  the  spiritual  blade  did 
not  suffice  to  abolish  it,  that  recourse  should  be  had  to  the 
temporal.  Some  have  said  that  the.  queen  had  bribed  them ; 
that  is  false.  I  do  not  say  that  she  did  not  bribe  them  later, 
which  was  a  fine  stroke  of  policy  and  intelligence;  but  it 
was  not  she  who  called  together  the  said  Assembly ;  so  far 
from  that,  she  blamed  them  for  all,  and  also  because  tliey 
lessened  greatly  the  king's  authority  and  her  own.  It  was 
the  party  of  the  Eeligion  wdiich  had  long  demanded  that 
Assembly,  and  required  by  the  terms  of  the  last  peace  that  it 
should  be  called  together  and  assembled  ;  to  which  the  queen 
objected  strongly,  foreseeing  abuses.  However,  to  content 
them  because  they  clamoured  for  it  so  much,  they  had  it,  to 
their  own  confusion  and  damage,  and  not  to  their  profit  and 
contentment  as  they  expected,  so  that  finally  they  took  up 
arms.     Thus  it  was  still  not  the  queen  who  did  so. 

IsTeither  was  it  she  who  caused  them  to  be  taken  up  when 
Mont-de-Marsan,  La  F^.re  in  Picardy,  and  Cahors  were  taken. 
I  remember  what  the  king  said  to  M.  de  Miossans,  who 
came  to  him  on  behalf  of  the  King  of  Navarre ;  he  rebuffed 
him  harshly,  and  told  him  that  while  those  princes  were 
cloying  him  with  line  words  they  were  calling  to  arms  and 
taking  cities. 

Now  that  is  how  this  queen  was  the  instigator  of  all  our 
wars  and  civil  fires,  the  which,  while  she  never  lighted  them, 
she  spent  her  pains  and  labour  in  striving  to  extinguish, 
abhorring  to  see  so  many  of  the  nobles  and  men  of  honour 
die.     And  without  that,  and  without  her  commiseration,  they 

5 


66  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

who  have  hated  her  with  mortal  hatred  would  have  been 
ill-off,  and  their  party  underground  and  not  flourishing  as  it 
now  is ;  which  must  be  imputed  to  her  kindness,  of  which 
we  now  have  sore  need,  for,  as  every  one  says  and  the  poor 
people  cry,  "  We  have  no  longer  the  queen-mother  to  make 
peace  for  us."  It  was  not  her  fault  that  peace  was  not  made 
when  she  went  to  Guyenne  lately  to  treat  of  it  with  the  King 
of  Navarre  and  the  Prince  de  Cond^. 

They  have  tried  to  accuse  her  also  of  being  an  accomplice 
in  the  wars  of  the  League.  Why,  then,  should  she  have 
brought  about  the  peace  of  which  I  speak  if  she  were  that  ? 
Why  should  she  have  pacified  the  riot  of  the  barricades  in 
Paris  ?  Wliy  should  she  have  reconciled  the  king  and  the 
Due  de  Guise  only  to  destroy  the  latter  and  kill  him  ? 

Well,  let  them  launch  into  such  foul  abuse  against  her  all 
they  will,  never  shall  we  have  another  queen  in  France  so 
good  for  peace. 

They  have  accused  her  of  that  massacre  in  Paris  [the 
Saint-Bartholomew]  ;  all  that  is  a  sealed  book  to  me,  for  at 
that  time  I  was  preparing  to  embark  at  Brouage ;  but  I  have 
often  heard  it  said  that  she  was  not  the  chief  actress  in  it. 
There  were  three  or  four  others,  whom  I  might  name,  who 
were  more  ardent  in  it  than  she  and  pushed  her  on,  making 
her  believe,  from  the  threats  uttered  on  the  wounding  of 
M.  I'amiral,  that  the  king  was  to  be  killed,  and  she  with  all 
her  children  and  the  whole  Court,  or  else  that  the  country 
would  be  in  arms  much  worse  than  ever.  Certainly  the 
party  of  Pieligion  did  very  wrong  to  make  the  threats  it  is 
said  they  made ;  for  they  brought  on  the  fate  of  poor  M. 
I'amiral,  and  procured  his  death.  If  they  had  kept  them- 
selves quiet,  said  no  word,  and  let  M.  I'amiral's  wound  heal, 
he  could  have  left  Paris  at  his  ease,  and  nothing  further 
would  have  come  of  it.     ]\I.  de  La  Xoue  was  of  that  opinion. 


CATHERINE  DE'  MEDICI.  67 

He  and  M.  Strozzi  and  I  have  often  spoken  of  it,  he  not 
approving  of  such  bravados,  audacities,  and  threats  as  were 
made  at  the  very  Court  of  the  king  in  his  city  of  Paris ;  and 
he  greatly  blamed  M.  de  Theligny,  his  brother-in-law,  who 
was  one  of  the  hottest,  calling  him  and  his  companions  per- 
fect fools  and  most  incapable.  M.  I'amiral  never  used  such 
language  as  I  have  heard  from  others,  at  least  not  aloud.  I 
do  not  say  that  in  secret  and  private  with  his  intimate 
friends  he  never  spoke  it.  That  was  the  cause  of  the  death 
of  M.  I'amiral  and  the  massacres  of  his  people,  and  not  the 
queen ;  as  I  have  heard  say  by  those  who  know  well,  although 
there  are  many  from  whose  heads  you  could  never  oust  the 
opinion  that  this  train  was  long  laid  and  the  plot  long  in 
hatching.  It  is  all  false.  The  least  passionate  think  as  I 
have  said;  the  more  passionate  and  obstinate  believe  the 
other  way ;  and  very  often  we  give  credit  for  the  ordering  of 
events  to  kings  and  great  princes,  and  say  after  those  events 
have  happened  how  prudent  and  provident  they  were,  and 
how  well  they  knew  how  to  dissimulate,  when  all  the  while 
they  knew  no  more  about  them  than  a  plum. 

To  return  again  to  our  queen ;  her  enemies  have  put  it 
about  that  she  was  not  a  good  Frenchwoman.  God  knows 
with  what  ardour  I  saw  her  urge  that  the  English  might  be 
driven  from  France  at  Havre  de  Grace,  and  what  she  said  of 
it  to  M.  le  Prince,  and  how  she  made  him  go  with  many 
gentlemen  of  his  party,  and  the  crown-companies  of  M. 
d'Andelot,  and  other  Huguenots,  and  how  she  herself  led  the 
army,  mounted  usually  on  a  horse,  like  a  second  beautiful 
Queen  Marfisa,  exposing  herself  to  the  arquebusades  and  the 
cannonades  as  if  she  were  one  of  her  captains,  looking  to  the 
making  of  the  batteries,  and  saying  she  should  never  be  at 
ease  until  she  had  taken  that  town  and  driven  the  English 
out  of  France ;  hating  worse  than  poison  those  who  had  sold 


68  THE   BOOK   OF   THE   LADIES. 

it  to  them.  And  thus  she  did  so  much  that  finally  she  made 
the  country  French. 

When  Eouen  was  besieged,  I  saw  her  in  the  greatest  anger 
when  she  beheld  supplies  entering  the  town  by  means  of  a 
French  galley  captured  the  year  before,  she  fearing  that  the 
place,  failing  to  be  taken  by  us,  would  come  under  the  domin- 
ion of  the  English.  For  this  reason  she  pushed  hard  at  the 
wheel,  as  they  say,  to  take  it,  and  never  failed  every  day  to 
come  to  the  fort  Sain te- Catherine  to  hold  council  and  see 
the  firing.  I  have  often  seen  her  passing  along  the  covered 
way  of  Sainte-Catherine,  the  cannonades  and  arquebusades 
raining  roimd  her,  and  she  caring  nothing  for  them. 

Those  who  were  there  saw  her  as  I  did;  there  are  still 
many  ladies,  her  maids  of  honour  who  accompanied  her,  to 
whom  the  firing  was  not  too  pleasant ;  I  knew  this  for  I  saw 
them  there  ;  but  when  M.  le  connetable  and  j\I.  de  Guise 
remonstrated  with  her,  telling  her  some  misfortune  would 
come  of  it,  she  only  laughed  and  said :  Why  should  she 
spare  herself  more  than  they,  inasmuch  as  she  had  as  good 
courage  as  they  had,  though  not  their  strength,  which  her 
sex  denied  her  ?  As  for  fatigue,  she  endured  that  well, 
whether  on  foot  or  on  horseback,  I  think  that  for  long 
there  had  never  been  a  queen  or  a  princess  better  on  horse- 
back, sitting  with  such  grace,  —  not  appearing,  for  all  that,  like 
a  masculine  dame,  in  form  and  style  a  fantastic  amazon,  but 
a  comely  princess,  beautiful,  agreeable,  and  gentle. 

They  said  of  her  that  she  was  very  Spanish.  Certainly 
as  long  as  her  good  daughter  lived  [Elisabeth,  wife  of 
Philip  II.]  she  loved  Spain  ;  but  after  her  daughter  died 
we  knew,  at  least  some  of  us,  whether  she  had  reason  to 
love  it,  either  country  or  nation.  True  it  is  that  she  was 
always  so  prudent  that  she  chose  to  treat  the  King  of 
Spain  as  her  good  son-in-law,  in  order  that  he  in  turn  should 


CATHERINE  DE'  MEDICI.  69 

treat  better  her  good  and  beautiful  daughter,  as  is  the  cu»tom 
of  good  mothers ;  so  that  he  never  came  to  trouble  France, 
nor  to  bring  war  there,  according  to  his  brave  heart  and 
natural  ambition. 

Others  have  also  said  that  she  did  not  like  the  nobility 
of  France  and  desired  much  to  shed  its  blood.  I  refer  for 
that  to  the  many  times  that  she  made  peace  and  spared  that 
blood;  besides  which,  attention  should  be  paid  to  this, 
namely :  that  while  she  was  regent,  and  her  children  minors, 
there  were  not  known  at  Court  so  many  quarrels  and  combats 
as  we  have  seen  there  since ;  she  would  not  allow  them, 
and  forbade  expressly  all  duelling  and  punished  those  who 
transgressed  that  order.  I  have  seen  her  at  Court,  when 
the  king  went  away  to  stay  some  days  and  she  was  left 
absolute  and  alone,  at  a  time  when  quarrels  had  begun  again 
and  were  becoming  common,  also  duelling,  which  she  never 
would  permit,  —  I  have  known  her,  I  say,  give  a  sudden 
order  to  the  captain  of  the  guards  to  make  arrests,  and  to  the 
marshals  and  captains  to  pacify  the  quarrel ;  so  that,  to  tell 
the  truth,  she  was  more  feared  than  the  king ;  for  she  knew 
how  to  talk  to  the  disobedient  and  the  dissolute,  and  rebuke 
them  terribly. 

I  remember  that  once,  the  king  having  gone  to  the  baths 
of  Bourbon,  my  late  cousin  La  Chastaignerie  had  a  quarrel 
with  Pardailhan.  She  had  him  searched  for,  in  order  to 
forbid  him,  on  his  hfe,  to  fight  a  duel ;  but  not  being  able 
to  find  him  for  two  whole  days,  she  had  him  tracked  so 
well  that  on  a  Sunday  morning,  he  being  on  the  island  of 
Louviers  awaiting  his  enemy,  the  grand  provost  arrived  to 
arrest  him,  and  took  him  prisoner  to  the  Bastille  by  order 
of  the  queen.  But  he  stayed  there  only  one  ^ight ;  for  she 
sent  for  him  and  gave  him  a  reprimand,  partly  sharp  and  partly 
gentle,  because  she  was  really  kind,  and  was  harsh  only  when 


70  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

she  chose  to  be.  I  know  very  well  what  she  said  to  me 
also  when  I  was  for  seconding  my  said  cousin,  namely :  that 
as  the  older  I  ought  to  have  been  the  wiser. 

The  year  that  the  king  returned  to  Poland  a  quarrel  arose 
between  Messieurs  de  Grillon  and  d'Entraigues,  two  brave 
and  valiant  gentlemen,  who  being  called  out  and  ready  to 
fight,  the  king  forbade  them  through  M.  de  Rambouillet, 
one  of  his  captains  of  the  guard  then  in  quarters,  and  he 
ordered  M.  de  Nevers  and  the  Mar^chal  de  Retz  to  make 
up  the  quarrel,  which  they  failed  in  doing.  That  evening 
the  queen  sent  for  them  both  into  her  room ;  and  as  their 
quarrel  was  about  two  great  ladies  of  her  household,  she 
commanded  them  with  great  sternness,  and  then  besought 
them  both  in  all  gentleness,  to  leave  to  her  the  settlement 
of  their  differences ;  inasmuch  as,  having  done  them  the 
honour  to  meddle  in  it,  and  the  princes,  marshals,  and  cap- 
tains having  failed  in  making  them  agree,  it  was  now  a 
point  of  honour  with  her  to  have  the  glory  of  doing  so : 
by  which  she  made  them  friends,  and  they  embraced  with- 
out other  forms,  taking  all  from  her ;  so  that  by  her  prudence 
the  subject  of  the  quarrel,  which  was  delicate,  and  rather 
touched  the  honour  of  the  two  ladies,  was  never  known 
publicly.  That  was  the  true  kindness  of  a  princess !  And 
then  to  say  she  did  not  like  the  nobility !  Ha  !  the  truth 
was,  she  noticed  and  esteemed  it  too  much.  I  think  there 
was  not  a  great  family  in  the  kingdom  with  whom  she  was 
not  acquainted ;  she  used  to  say  she  had  learned  from  King 
Francois  the  genealogies  of  the  great  families  of  his  king- 
dom ;  and  as  for  the  king,  her  husband,  he  had  this  faculty, 
that  when  he  had  once  peen  a  nobleman  he  knew  him 
always,  in  face,  in  deeds,  and  in  reputation. 

I  have  seen  the  queen,  often  and  ordinarily,  while  the  king, 
her  son,  was  a  minor,  take  the  trouble  to  present  to  him  her- 


CATHERINE  DE'  MEDICL  71 

self  the  gentlemen  of  his  kingdom,  and  put  them  in  his 
memory  thus :  "  Such  a  one  did  service  to  the  king  your 
grandfather,  at  such  and  such  times  and  places ;  and  this  one 
served  your  father ; "  and  so  on,  —  commanding  him  to  remem- 
ber all  this,  and  to  love  them  and  do  well  by  them,  and  rec- 
ognize them  at  other  times ;  which  he  knew  very  well  how 
to  do,  for,  through  such  instruction,  this  king  recognized 
readily  all  men  of  character  and  race  and  honour  throughout 
his  kingdom. 

Detractors  have  also  said  that  she  did  not  like  her  people. 
What  appears  ?  Were  there  ever  so  many  tallies,  subsidies, 
imposts,  and  other  taxes  while  she  was  governing  during  the 
minority  of  her  children  as  have  since  been  drawn  in  a  single 
year  ?  Was  it  proved  that  she  had  all  that  hidden  money  in 
the  banks  of  Italy,  as  people  said  ?  Far  from  that,  it  was 
found  after  her  death  that  she  had  not  a  single  sou ;  and,  as 
I  have  heard  some  of  her  financiers  and  some  of  her  ladies 
say,  she  was  indebted  eight  thousand  crowns,  the  wages  of 
her  ladies,  gentlemen,  and  household  officers,  due  a  year,  and 
the  revenue  of  the  whole  year  spent ;  so  that  some  months 
before  her  death  her  financiers  showed  her  these  necessities  • 
but  she  laughed  and  said  one  must  praise  God  for  all  and 
find  something  to  live  on.  That  was  her  avarice  and  the 
great  treasure  she  amassed,  as  people  said !  She  never 
amassed  anything,  for  she  had  a  heart  wholly  noble,  liberal, 
and  magnificent,  like  her  great  uncle.  Pope  Leo,  and  that 
magnificent  Lorenzo  de'  Medici.  She  spent  or  gave  away 
everything ;  erecting  buildings,  spending  in  honourable  mag- 
nificences, and  taking  pleasure  in  giving  recreations  to  her 
people  and  her  Court,  such  as  festivals,  balls,  dances,  tourna- 
ments and  spearing  the  ring  \couremens  de  hague],  of  which 
latter  she  held  three  that  were  very  superb  during  her  life- 
time :  one  at  Fontainebleau  on  the  Shrove  Tuesday  after  the 


72  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

first  troubles;  where  there  were  tourneys  and  breakmg  of 
lances  and  combats  at  the  barrier,  —  in  short,  all  sorts  of 
feats  of  arms,  with  a  comedy  on  the  subject  of  the  beautiful 
Genevra  of  Ariosto,  which  she  caused  to  be  represented  by 
Mme.  d'Angouleme  and  her  most  beautiful  and  virtuous 
princesses  and  the  ladies  and  damoiselles  of  her  Court,  who 
certainly  played  it  very  well,  and  so  that  nothing  finer  was 
ever  seen.  The  second  was  at  Bayonne,  at  the  interview 
between  the  queen  and  her  good  daughter  Elisabeth,  Queen 
of  Spain,  where  the  magnificence  was  such  in  all  things  that 
the  Spanish,  who  are  very  disdainful  of  other  countries  than 
their  own,  swore  they  had  never  seen  anything  finer,  and 
that  their  own  king  could  not  approach  it ;  and  thus  they 
returned  to  Spain  much  edified. 

I  know  that  many  in  France  blamed  this  expense  as  being 
superfluous ;  but  the  queen  said  that  she  did  it  to  show  for- 
eigners that  France  was  not  so  totally  ruined  and  poverty- 
stricken  because  of  the  late  wars  as  they  thought ;  and  that 
if  for  such  tourneys  she  was  able  to  spend  so  much,  for  mat- 
ters of  importance  she  could  surely  do  better,  and  that  France 
was  all  the  more  feared  and  esteemed,  whether  through  the 
sight  of  such  wealth  and  richness,  or  through  that  of  the 
prowess  of  her  gentlemen,  so  brave  and  adroit  at  arms ;  as 
indeed  there  were  many  there  very  good  to  see  and  worthy 
to  be  admired.  Moreover,  it  was  very  reasonable  tliat  for 
the  greatest  queen  of  Christendom,  the  most  beautiful,  the 
most  virtuous,  and  the  best,  some  great  solemn  festival 
above  all  others  should  be  held.  And  I  can  assure  you  that 
if  this  liad  not  been  done,  the  foreigners  would  have  mocked 
us  and  gone  back  to  Spain  thinking  and  holding  us  all  in 
France  to  be  beggars. 

Therefore  it  was  not  without  good  and  careful  consideration 
that  this  wise  and  judicious  c|ueen  made  this  outlay.     She 


CATHERINE  DE'  MEDICI.  73 

made  another  very  fine  one  on  the  arrival  of  the  Poles  in 
Paris,  whom  she  feasted  most  superbly  in  her  Tuileries; 
after  which,  in  a  great  hall  built  on  pvirpose  and  surrounded 
by  an  infinite  number  of  torches,  she  showed  them  the  finest 
ballet  that  was  ever  seen  on  earth  (I  may  indeed  say  so) ; 
the  which  was  composed  of  sixteen  of  her  best-taught  ladies 
and.  damoiselles,  who  appeared  in  a  great  rock  [_roc,  grotto  ?  ] 
all  silvered,  where  they  w^ere  seated  in  niches,  like  vapours 
around  it.  These  sixteen  ladies  represented  the  sixteen 
provinces  of  France,  with  the  most  melodious  music  ever 
heard ;  and  after  having  made,  in  this  rock,  the  tour  of  the 
hall,  like  a  parade  in  camp,  and  letting  themselves  be  seen 
of  every  one,  they  descended  from  the  rock  and  formed  them- 
selves into  a  little  battalion,  fantastically  imagined,  with 
violins  to  the  number  of  thirty  sounding  a  warlike  air  ex- 
tremely pleasant ;  and  thus  they  marched  to  the  air  of  the 
violins,  with  a  fine  cadence  they  never  lost,  and  so  approached, 
and  stopped  before  their  Majesties.  After  which  they  danced 
their  ballet,  most  fantastically  invented,  with  so  many  turns, 
counterturns,  and  gyrations,  such  twining  and  blending,  such 
advancing  and  pausing  (though  no  lady  failed  to  find  her 
place  and  rank),  that  all  present  were  astonished  to  see  how 
in  such  a  maze  order  was  not  lost  for  a  moment,  and  that  all 
these  ladies  had  their  judgment  clear  and  held  it  good,  so 
well  were  they  taught !  This  fantastic  ballet  lasted  at  least 
one  hour,  the  which  being  concluded,  all  these  sixteen  ladies, 
representing,  as  I  have  said,  the  sixteen  provinces,  advanced 
to  the  king,  the  queen,  the  King  of  Poland,  Monsieur  his 
brother,  the  King  and  Queen  of  Navarre,  and  other  grandees 
of  France  and  Poland,  presenting  to  each  a  golden  salver  as 
large  as  the  palm  of  the  hand,  finely  enamelled  and  beauti- 
fully chased,  on  which  were  engraved  the  fruits  and  products 
of  each  province  in  which  they  were  most  fertile,  such  as 


74  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

citrons  and  oranges  in  Provence,  cereals  in  Champagne,  wines 
in  Burgundy,  and  in  Guyenne  warriors,  —  great  honour  that 
for  Guyenne  certainly !  And  so  on,  through  the  other 
provinces. 

At  Bayonne  the  like  presents  were  made,  and  a  combat 
fought,  which  I  could  represent  very  well,  with  the  presents 
and  the  names  of  those  who  received  them,  but  it  would 
be  too  long.  At  Bayonne  it  was  the  men  who  gave  to  the 
ladies  ;  here,  it  was  the  ladies  giving  to  the  men.  Take  note 
that  all  these  inventions  came  from  no  other  devising  and 
brain  than  that  of  the  queen ;  for  she  was  mistress  and  in- 
ventress  of  everything ;  she  had  such  faculty  that  whatever 
magnificences  were  done  at  Court,  hers  surpassed  all  others. 
For  which  reason  they  used  to  say  there  was  no  one  hke 
the  queen-mother  for  doing  fine  things.  If  such  outlays 
were  costly,  they  gave  great  pleasure ;  and  people  often  said 
she  wished  to  imitate  the  Eoman  emperors,  who  studied  to 
exhibit  games  to  their  people  and  give  them  pleasures,  and 
so  amuse  them  as  not  to  leave  them  leisure  to  do  harm. 

Besides  the  pleasure  she  took  in  giving  pleasure  to  her 
people,  she  also  gave  them  much  to  earn  ;  for  she  liked  all 
sorts. of  artisans  and  paid  them  well ;  employing  them  each 
in  his  owTi  art,  so  that  they  never  wanted  for  work,  es- 
pecially masons  and  builders,  as  is  shown  by  her  beautiful 
houses :  the  Tuileries  (still  unfinished),  Saint-Maur,  Mon- 
ceaux,  and  Chenonceaux.  Also  she  liked  learned  men,  and 
was  pleased  to  read,  and  she  made  others  read,  the  books 
they  presented  to  her,  or  those  that  she  knew  they  had 
written.  AU  were  acceptable,  even  to  the  fine  invectives 
which  were  published  against  her,  about  which  she  scoffed 
and  laughed,  without  anger,  calling  those  who  wrote  them 
gabblers  and  "  givers  of  trash  "  —  that  was  her  use  of  the 
word 


CATHERINE  DE'  MEDICL  -  75 

She  wished  to  know  everything.  On  the  voyage  to  Lor- 
raine, during  the  second  troubles,  the  Huguenots  had  with 
them  a  fine  culverin  to  which  they  gave  the  name  of  "  the 
queen-mother."  They  were  forced  to  bury  it  at  Villenozze, 
not  being  able  to  drag  it  on  account  of  its  long  shafts  and 
bad  harness  and  weight ;  after  which  it  never  could  be 
found  again.  The  queen,  hearing  that  they  had  given  it 
her  name,  wanted  to  know  why.  A  certain  person,  having 
been  much  urged  by  her  to  tell  her,  replied :  "  Because, 
madame,  it  has  a  cahbre  [diameter]  broader  and  bigger  than 
that  of  others."  The  queen  was  the  first  to  laugh  at  this 
reply. 

She  spared  no  pains  in  reading  anything  that  took  her 
fancy.  I  saw  her  once,  having  embarked  at  Blaye  to  go 
and  dine  at  Bourg,  reading  the  whole  way  from  a  parchment, 
like  any  lawyer  or  notary,  a  proces-verhal  made  on  Derbois, 
favourite  secretary  of  the  late  M.  le  conndtable,  as  to  cer- 
tain underhand  dealings  and  correspondence  of  which  he 
was  accused  and  for  which  imprisoned  at  Bayonne.  She 
never  took  her  eyes  off  it  until  she  had  read  it  through ; 
and  there  were  more  than  ten  pages  of  parchment.  When 
she  was  not  hindered,  she  read  herself  all  letters  of  impor- 
tance, and  frequently  with  her  own  hand  made'  replies ; 
I  saw  her  once,  after  dinner,  write  twenty  long  letters 
herself. 

She  wrote  and  spoke  French  very  well,  although  an 
Italian ;  and  even  to  persons  of  her  own  nation  she  usually 
spoke  it,  so  much  did  she  honour  France  and  its  language ; 
taking  pains  to  exhibit  its  fine  speech  to  foreigners,  grandees, 
and  ambassadors,  who  came  to  visit  her  after  seeing  the 
king.  She  always  answered  them  very  pertinently,  with 
great  grace  and  majesty ;  as  I  have  also  seen  and  heard  her 
do  to  the  courts  of  parliament,  both  publicly  and  privately ; 


76  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

often  controlling  the  latter  finely  when  they  rambled  in  talk 
or  were  over-cautious,  or  would  not  comply  with  the  edicts 
made  in  her  privy  council  and  the  ordinances  issued  by  the 
king  and  herself.  You  may  be  sure  she  spoke  as  a  queen 
and  made  herself  feared  as  one.  I  saw  her  once  at  Bordeaux 
when  she  took  her  daughter  Marguerite  to  her  husband,  the 
King  of  Navarre.  She  had  commanded  that  court  of  parlia- 
ment to  come  and  be  spoken  to,  —  they  not  being  willing  to 
abolish  a  certain  brotherhood,  by  them  invented  and  main- 
tained, which  she  was  determined  to  break  up,  foreseeing 
that  it  would  bring  some  results  in  the  end  which  might  be 
prejudicial  to  the  State.  They  came  to  meet  her  in  the 
garden  of  the  Bishop's  house,  where  she  was  walking  one 
Sunday  morning.  One  among  them  spoke  for  all,  and  gave 
her  to  understand  the  fruitfulness  of  this  brotherhood  and 
the  utility  it  was  to  the  public.  She,  without  being  pre- 
pared, replied  so  well  and  with  such  apt  words,  and  apparent 
and  appropriate  reasons  to  show  it  was  ill-founded  and 
odious,  that  there  was  no  one  present  who  did  not  admire 
the  mind  of  the  queen  and  remain  confused  and  astonished 
when,  as  her  last  word,  she  said ;  "  No,  I  will,  and  the  king 
my  son  wills  that  it  be  exterminated,  and  never  heard  of 
again,  for  secret  reasons  that  I  shall  not  tell  you,  besides 
those  that  I  have  told  you ;  and  if  not,  I  will  make  you  feel 
what  it  is  to  disobey  the  king  and  me."  So  each  and  all 
went  away  and  nothing  more  was  said  of  it. 

She  did  these  turns  very  often  to  the  princes  and  the 
greatest  people,  when  they  had  done  some  great  wrong  and 
made  her  so  angry  that  she  took  her  haughty  air,  —  no  one 
on  earth  being  so  superb  and  stately  as  she,  when  needful, 
sparing  no  truths  to  any  one.  I  have  seen  the  late  M.  de 
Savoie,  who  was  intimate  with  the  emperor,  the  King  of 
Spain,  and  so  many  grandees,  fear  and  respect  her  more  than 


CATHERINE  DE'  MEDICI.  77 

if  she  had  been  his  mother,  and  M.  de  Lorraine  the  same,  — 
in  short,  all  the  great  people  of  Christendom ;  I  could  give 
many  examples  ;  but  another  time,  in  due  course,  I  will  tell 
them ;  just  now  it  suffices  to  say  what  I  have  said. 

Among  other  perfections  she  was  a  good  Christian  and 
very  devout ;  always  making  her  Easters,  and  never  failing 
any  day  to  attend  divine  service  at  mass  and  vespers ;  which 
she  rendered  very  agreeable  to  pious  persons,  by  the  good 
singers  of  her  chapel,  —  she  being  careful  to  collect  the  most 
exquisite ;  also  she  herself  loved  music  by  nature,  and  often 
gave  pleasure  with  it  in  her  apartment,  wdiich  was  never 
closed  to  virtuous  ladies  and  honourable  men,  she  seeing  all 
and  every  one,  not  restricting  it  as  they  do  in  Spain,  and  also 
in  her  own  land  of  Italy;  nor  yet  as  our  later  queens, 
Isabella  of  Austria  and  Louise  of  Lorraine,  have  done ;  but 
saying,  like  King  Francois,  her  father-in-law  (whom  she 
greatly  honoured,  he  having  set  her  up  and  made  her  free), 
that  she  wished  to  keep  her  Court  as  a  good  Frenchwoman, 
and  as  the  king,  her  husband,  would  have  wished;  so  that 
her  apartments  were  the  pleasure  of  the  Court. 

She  had,  ordinarily,  very  beautiful  and  virtuous  maids  of 
honour,  who  conversed  with  us  daily  in  her  antechamber, 
discoursing  and  chatting  so  wisely  and  modestly  that  none  of 
us  would  have  dared  to  do  otherwise ;  for  the  gentlemen  who 
failed  in  this  were  banished  and  threatened,  and  in  fear  of 
worse  until  she  pardoned  and  forgave  them,  she  being  kind 
in  herself  and  very  ready  to  do  so. 

In  short,  her  company  and  her  Court  were  a  true  paradise 
in  the  world,  and  a  school  of  all  virtue  and  honour,  the  orna- 
ment of  France,  as  the  foreigners  wdio  came  there  knew  well 
and  said ;  for  they  were  all  most  politely  received,  and  her  ladies 
and  maids  of  honour  were  commanded  to  adorn  themselves 
at  their  coming  like  goddesses,  and  to  entertain  these  visitors, 


78  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

not  amusing  themselves  elsewhere ;   otherwise  she  taunted 
them  well  and  reprimanded  them. 

In  fact,  her  Court  was  such  that  when  she  died  the  voices 
of  all  declared  that  the  Court  was  no  longer  a  Court,  and  that 
never  again  would  France  have  a  true  queen-mother.  What 
a  Court  it  was  !  such  as,  I  believe,  no  Emperor  of  Eome  in 
the  olden  time  ever  held  for  ladies,  nor  any  of  our  Kings  of 
Prance.  Though  it  is  true  that  the  great  Emperor  Charle- 
magne, King  of  France,  during  his  lifetime  took  great  pleas- 
ure in  making  and  maintaining  a  grand  and  full  Court  of 
peers,  dukes,  counts,  palatines,  barons,  and  knights  of  France  ; 
also  of  ladies,  their  wives  and  daughters,  with  others  of  all 
countries,  to  pay  court  and  lionour  (as  the  old  romances  of 
that  day  have  said)  to  the  empress  and  queen,  and  to  see  the 
fine  jousts,  tournaments,  and  magnificences  done  there  by 
knights-errant  coming  from  all  parts.  But  what  of  that  ? 
These  fine,  grand  assemblies  came  together  not  oftener  than 
three  or  four  times  a  year;  at  the  end  of  each  fete  they 
departed  and  retired  to  their  houses  and  estates  until  the 
next  time.  Besides,  some  have  said  that  in  his  old  age 
Charlemagne  was  much  given  over  to  women,  though  always 
of  good  company ;  and  that  Louis  le  Debonnaire,  on  ascend- 
ing the  throne,  was  obliged  to  banish  his  sisters  to  other 
places  for  the  scandal  of  their  lives  with  men ;  and  also  that 
he  drove  from  Court  a  number  of  ladies  who  belonged  to  the 
joyous  band.  Charlemagne's  Courts  were  never  of  long  dura- 
tion (I  speak  now  of  his  great  years),  for  he  amused  himself 
in  those  days  with  war,  according  to  our  old  romances, 
and  in  his  last  years  his  Court  was  too  dissolute,  as  I  have 
already  said.  But  the  Court  of  our  King  Henri  II.  and 
the  queen  his  wife,  was  held  daily,  whether  in  war  or  peace, 
and  whether  it  resided  in  one  place  or  another  for  months, 
or  went  to  other  castles  and  pleasure-houses  of  our  kings. 


CATHERINE  DE'  MEDICI.  79 

who  are  not  lacking  in  them,  having  more  than  the  kings 
of  other  countries. 

This  large  and  noble  company,  keeping  always  together,  at 
least  the  greater  part  of  them,  came  and  went  with  its  queen, 
so  that  usually  her  Court  was  filled  by  at  least  three  hundred 
ladies  and  damoiselles.  The  intendants  of  the  king's  houses 
and  the  quartermasters  affirmed  that  they  occupied  fully 
one-half  of  the  rooms,  as  I  myself  have  seen  during  the 
thirty-three  years  I  lived  at  Court,  except  when  at  war  or  in 
foreign  parts.  Having  returned,  I  was  always  there  ;  for  the 
sojourn  was  to  me  most  agreeable,  not  seeing  elsewhere  any- 
thing finer ;  in  fact  I  think,  since  the  world  was,  nothing  has 
ever  been  seen  like  it ;  and  as  the  noble  names  of  these  beau- 
tiful ladies  who  assisted  our  queen  in  adorning  her  Court 
should  not  be  overlooked,  I  place  them  here,  according  as  I 
remember  them  from  the  end  of  the  queen's  married  life  and 
throughout  her  widowhood,  for  before  that  time  I  was  too 
young  to  know  them. 

First,  I  place  Mesdames  the  daughters  of  France.  I  place 
them  first  because  they  never  lost  their  rank,  and  go  before 
all  others,  so  grand  and  noble  is  their  house,  to  wit :  — 

Madame  Elisabeth  de  France,  afterwards  Queen  of  Spain. 

Madame  Claude,  afterwards  Duchesse  de  Lorraine. 

Madame  Marguerite,  afterwards  Queen  of  Navarre. 

Madame  the  king's  sister,  afterwards  Duchesse  de  Savoie. 

The  Queen  of  Scots,  afterwards  dauphine  and  Queen  of 
France. 

The  Queen  of  Navarre,  Jeanne  d'Albret. 

Madame  Catherine,  her  daughter,  to-day  called  Madame 
the  king's  [Henri  IV.]  sister. 

Madame  Diane,  natural  daughter  of  the  king  [Henri  II.], 
afterwards  legitimatized,  the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme. 

Madame  d'Enghien,  of  the  house  of  Estouteville. 


80  THE  BOOK  OF  THE   LADIES. 

Madame  la  Princesse  de  Condd,  of  the  house  of  Roye. 

Madame  de  Nevers,  of  the  house  of  Vendome. 

Madame  de  Guise,  of  tlie  house  of  Ferrara. 

Madame  Diane  de  Poitiers,  Duchesse  de  Valentinois. 

Mesdames  d'Aumale  and  de  Bouillon,  her  daughters.^ 

Need  I  name  more  ?  No,  for  my  memory  could  not  fur- 
nish them.  There  are  so  many  other  ladies  and  maids  that 
I  beg  them  to  excuse  me  if  I  pass  them  by  with  my  pen, — 
not  that  I  do  not  greatly  value  and  esteem  them,  but  I 
should  dream  over  them  and  amuse  myself  too  much.  To 
make  an  end,  I  must  say  that  in  all  this  company  there  was 
nothing  to  find  fault  with  in  their  day ;  beauty  abounded, 
all  majesty,  all  charm,  all  grace ;  happy  was  he  who  could 
touch  with  love  such  ladies,  and  happy  those  who  could 
tliat  love  eseapar.  I  swear  to  you  that  I  have  named  only 
those  ladies  and  damoiselles  who  were  beautiful,  agreeable, 
very  accomplished,  and  well  sufficient  to  set  fire  to  the 
whole  world.  Indeed,  in  their  best  days  they  burned  up 
a  good  part  of  it,  as  much  us  gentlemen  of  the  Court  as 
others  who  approached  the  flame  ;  to  some  of  whom  they 
were  gentle,  aimable,  favourable,  and  courteous.  I  speak  of 
none  here,  hoping  to  make  good  tales  about  them  in  this 
book  before  I  finish  it,  and  of  others  whose  names  are  not 
comprised  here ;  but  the  whole  told  so  discreetly,  without 
scandal,  that  nothing  will  be  known,  for  the  curtain  of 
silence  will  cover  their  names ;  so  that  if  by  chance  the}^ 
should  any  of  them  read  tales  of  themselves  they  will  not 
be  annoyed.  Besides,  though  the  pleasures  of  love  cannot 
last  forever,  by  reason  of  many  inconveniences,  hindrances, 
and  changes,  the  memories  of  the  past  are  always  pleasing. 

^  Here  follow  the  names  of  ninety-three  larlics  and  sixty-six  damoiselles  ; 
amon^' the  latter  are  "Mesdamoiselles  Elaniniin  (Fleming  ?)  Veton  (Sea- 
ton  ? )  Beton  ( Beaton  ? )  Leviston,  cscossoises."  The  three  first-named  on  the 
above  list  are  the  daughters  of  Henri  TT.  and  Catherine  de'  Medici. — Tk. 


^ 


^- 


N 


>:: 


CATHERINE   DE'   MEDICI.  81 

[This  refers  to  "  Les  Dames  Galantes,"  and  not  to  the  present 
volume.] 

Now,  to  thoroughly  consider  how  fine  a  sight  was  this 
troupe  of  beautiful  ladies  and  damoiselles,  creatures  divine 
rather  than  human,  we  must  imagine  the  entries  into  Paris 
and  other  cities,  the  sacred  and  superlative  bridals  of  our 
kings  of  France,  and  their  sisters,  the  daughters  of  France  ; 
such  as  those  of  the  dauphin,  of  King  Charles,  of  King 
Henri  III.,  of  the  Queen  of  Spain,  of  Madame  de  Lorraine, 
of  the  Queen  of  Navarre,  not  to  speak  of  many  other  grand 
weddings  of  the  princes  and  princesses,  like  that  of  M.  de 
Joyeuse,  which  would  have  surpassed  them  all  if  the  Queen 
of  Navarre  had  been  there.  Also  we  must  picture  to  our- 
selves the  interview  at  Bayonne,  the  arrival  of  the  Poles, 
and  an  infinite  number  of  other  and  like  magnificences, 
which  I  could  never  finish  naming,  where  I  saw  these  ladies 
appear,  each  more  beautiful  than  the  rest ;  some  more  finely 
appointed  and  better  dressed  than  others,  because  for  such 
festivals,  in  addition  to  their  great  means,  the  king  and 
queen  would  give  tliem  splendid  liveries. 

In  short,  nothing  was  ever  seen  finer,  more  dazzling, 
dainty,  superb  ;  the  glory  of  Niqude  never  approached  it 
[enchanted  palace  in  "  Amadis  "J.  All  this  shone  in  a  ball- 
room of  the  Tuileries  or  the  Louvre  as  the  stars  of  heaven 
in  the  azure  sky.  The  queen-mother  wished  and  commanded 
her  ladies  always  to  appear  in  grand  and  superb  apparel, 
though  she  herself  during  her  widowhood  never  clothed  herself 
in  worldly  silks,  unless  they  were  lugubrious,  but  always 
properly  and  so  well-fitting  that  she  looked  the  queen  above 
all  else.  It  is  true  that  on  the  days  of  the  weddings  of 
her  two  sons  Henri  and  Charles,  she  wore  gowns  of 
black  velvet,  wishing,  she  said,  to  solemnize  the  event  by  so 
signal  an  act.     While  she  was  married  she  always  dressed 

6 


82  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

xery  richly  and  superbly,  and  looked  what  she  was.  And  it 
was  fine  to  see  and  admire  her  in  the  general  processions 
that  were  made,  both  in  Paris  and  other  cities,  such  as 
the  Fete  Dieu,  that  of  the  liameaux  [Palm  Sunday],  bear- 
ing palms  and  branches  with  such  grace,  and  on  Candlemas 
Day,  when  the  torches  were  borne  by  all  the  Court,  the 
flames  of  which  contended  against  their  own  brilhancy.  At 
these  three  processions,  which  are  most  solemn,  we  certainly 
saw  nothing  but  beauty,  grace,  a  noble  bearing,  a  fine  gait 
and  splendid  apparel,  all  of  which  delighted  the  spectators. 

It  was  fine  also  to  see  the  queen  in  her  married  life  going 
through  the  country  in  her  litter,  being  pregnant,  or  after- 
wards on  horsel)ack  attended  by  forty  or  fifty  ladies  and 
damoiselles  mounted  on  handsome  hackneys  well  caparisoned, 
and  sitting  their  horses  with  such  good  grace  that  the  men 
could  not  do  better,  either  in  equestrian  style  or  apparel ; 
their  hats  adorned  with  plumes  which  floated  in  the  air  as 
if  demanding  either  love  or  war.  Virgil,  who  took  upon 
himself  to  write  of  the  apparel  of  Queen  Dido  when  she 
went  to  the  chase,  says  nothing  that  approaches  the  luxury 
of  that  of  our  queen  with  her  ladies,  may  it  not  displease 
her,  as  I  think  I  have  said  elsewhere. 

Tliis  queen  (made  by  the  act  of  the  great  King  Frangois), 
who  introduced  this  beautiful  pageantry,  never  forgot  or  let 
slip  anything  of  the  kind  she  had  once  learned,  but  always 
wanted  to  imitate  or  surpass  it;  I  have  heard  her  speak  thiee 
or  four  times  in  my  life  on  this  subject.  Those  who  have 
seen  things  as  I  did  still  feel  their  souls  enchanted  like 
mine,  for  what  I  say  is  true ;  I  know  it  having  seen  it. 

So  there  is  the  Court  of  our  queen.  Unhappy  was  tlie  day 
when  she  died  !  I  have  heard  tell  that  our  present  king 
[Henri  IV.],  some  eighteen  months  after  he  saw  himself 
more  in  hope  and  prospect  of   becoming    King    of  France, 


CATHERINE   DE'   MEDICI.  83 

began  one  day  to  discourse  with  the  late  M.  le  Mar^chal 
de  Biron,  on  the  plans  and  projects  he  would  undertake  to 
make  his  Court  prosperous  and  line  and  in  all  things  like 
that  of  our  said  queen,  for  at  that  time  it  was  in  its  greatest 
lustre  and  splendour.  j\I.  le  marechal  answered :  '■'  It  is  not 
in  your  power,  nor  in  that  of  any  king  who  will  ever  reign, 
unless  you  can  manage  with  God  that  he  shall  resuscitate 
the  queen-mother,  and  bring  her  round  to  you."  But  that 
was  not  what  the  king  wanted,  for  when  she  died  there  was 
no  one  whom  he  hated  so  much,  but  without  grounds,  as  I 
could  see,  and  as  he  should  have  known  better  than  I. 

How  luckless  was  the  day  on  which  such  a  queen  died,  at 
the  very  point  when  we  had  such  great  necessity  for  her,  and 
still  have  ! 

She  died  at  Blois  of  sadness  caused  by  the  massacre  whicli 
there  took  place,  and  the  melancholy  tragedy  there  played, 
seeing  that,  without  reflection,  she  had  brought  the  princes 
to  Blois  thinking  to  do  well ;  whereas  it  was  true,  as  M.  le 
Cardinal  de  Bourbon  said  to  her :  "  Alas  !  madame,  you  have 
led  us  all  to  butchery  without  intending  it."  That  so  touched 
her  heart,  and  also  the  death  of  those  poor  men,  that  she  took 
to  her  bed,  having  previously  felt  ill,  and  never  rose  again. 

They  say  that  when  the  king  announced  to  her  the  murder 
of  j\I.  de  Guise,  saving  that  he  was  now  absolutelv  kincj, 
without  equal,  or  master,  she  asked  him  if  he  had  put  the 
affairs  of  his  kingdom  in  order  before  striking  the  blow.  To 
which  he  answered  yes.  "  God  grant  it,  my  son,"  she  said. 
Very  prudent  that  she  was,  she  foresaw  plainly  what  would 
happen  to  him,  and  to  all  the  kingdom.^ 

Persons  have  spoken  diversely  as  to  her  death,  and  even  as 

1  Henri  III,  convoked  the  States-General  at  Blois  in  1588 ;  the  Due  de 
Guise  (Henri,  le  Balafre)  was  tliere  assassinated,  hy  the  king's  order, 
December  23,  1588  ;  his  brotlier,  Cardinal  de  Bourbon,  the  next  day.  —  Tii. 


84  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

to  poison.  Possibly  it  was  so,  possibly  not;  but  she  was 
held  to  have  died  of  desperation,  and  she  had  reason  to 
do  so. 

She  was  placed  on  her  state-bed,  as  one  of  her  ladies  told 
me,  neither  more  nor  less  like  Queen  Anne  of  whom  I  have 
already  spoken,  clothed  in  the  same  royal  garments  that  the 
said  Queen  Anne  wore,  they  not  having  served  since  her 
death  for  any  others ;  and  thus  she  was  borne  to  the  church 
of  the  castle,  with  the  same  pomp  and  solemnity  as  Queen 
Anne,  where  she  lies  and  rests  still.  The  king  wished  to 
take  her  to  Chartres  and  thence  to  Saint-Denis,  to  put  her 
with  the  king,  her  husband,  in  the  same  tomb  which  she  had 
caused  to  be  made,  built,  and  constructed,  so  noble  and 
superb,  but  the  war  which  came  on  prevented  it. 

This  is  what  I  can  say  at  this  time  of  this  great  queen, 
who  has  given  assuredly  such  noble  grounds  to  speak  worthily 
of  her  that  this  short  discourse  is  not  enough  for  her  praise. 
I  know  that  well ;  also  that  the  quality  of  my  speech  does 
not  suffice,  for  better  speakers  than  I  would  be  insufficient. 
At  any  rate,  such  as  my  discourse  is,  I  lay  it,  in  all  humility 
and  devotion,  at  her  feet ;  also  I  would  avoid  too  great  pro- 
lixity, for  which  indeed  I  feel  myself  too  capable  ;  but  I  hope 
I  shall  not  separate  from  her  much,  although  in  my  discourses 
I  shall  be  silent,  and  only  speak  of  what  her  noble  and 
incomparable  virtues  command  me,  giving  me  ample  matter 
so  to  do,  I  having  seen  all  that  I  have  written  of  her ;  and  as 
fur  what  had  happened  before  my  time,  I  heard  it  from  persons 
most  illustrious  ;  and  thus  I  shall  do  in  all  my  books. 

This  queen,  who  was  of  many  kings  the  mother, 
Of  queens  also,  belonging  here  to  France, 
Died  wlien  we  had  most  need  of  her  support ; 
For  none  but  she  could  give  us  true  assistance. 


CATHERINE  DE'  MEDICI.  85 

M^zeray  [in  his  "History  of  France"],  who  never  thinks 
of  the  dramatic,  nevertheless  makes  known  to  us  at  the  start 
his  principal  personages ;  he  shows  them  more  especially  in 
action,  without  detaching  them  too  much  from  the  general 
sentiment  and  interests  of  which  they  are  the  leaders  and 
representatives,  while,  at  the  same  time,  he  leaves  to  each  his 
individual  physiognomy.  The  old  Conn^table  de  Mont- 
morency, the  Guises,  Admiral  de  Coligny,  the  Chancellor  de 
I'Hopital  define  themselves  on  his  pages  by  their  conduct  and 
proceedings  even  more  than  by  the  judgment  he  awards 
them.  Catherine  de'  Medici  is  painted  there  in  all  her  dis- 
simulation and  her  network  of  artifices,  in  which  she  was 
often  caught  herself ;  ambitious  of  sovereign  power  without 
possessing  either  the  force  or  the  genius  of  it;  striving  to 
obtain  it  by  craft,  and  using  for  this  purpose  a  continual  sys- 
tem of  what  we  should  call  to-day  see-sawing  ;  "  rousing  and 
elevating  for  a  time  one  faction,  putting  to  sleep  or  lowering 
another ;  uniting  herself  sometimes  with  the  feeblest  side 
out  of  caution,  lest  the  stronger  should  crush  her ;  sometimes 
with  the  stronger  from  necessity ;  at  times  standing  neutral 
when  she  felt  herself  strong  enough  to  command  both  sides, 
but  without  intention  to  extinguish  either."  Far  from  being 
always  too  CathoHc,  there  are  moments  when  she  seems  to 
lean  to  the  Eeformed  religion  and  to  wish  to  grant  too  much 
to  that  party ;  and  this  with  more  sincerity,  perhaps,  than 
belonged  to  her  naturally.  The  Catherine  de'  Medici,  such 
as  she  presents  herself  and  is  developed  in  plain  truth  on  the 
pages  of  M^zeray  is  well  calculated  to  tempt  a  modem  writer. 
As  there  is  nothing  new  but  that  which  is  old,  for  often  dis- 
coveries are  nothing  more  than  that  which  was  once  known 
and  is  forgotten,  the  day  when  a  modern  historian  shall  take 
up  the  Catherine  de'  Medici  of  M^zeray  and  give  her  some 
of  the  rather  forced  features  which  are  to  the  taste  of  the 


S6  THE   BOOK   OF   THE   LADIES. 

present  day,  there  will  come  a  great  cry  of  astonishment  and 
admiration,  and  the  critics  will  register  a  new  discovery.^ 

M.  Xiel,  librarian  to  the  ministry  of  the  Interior,  an  en- 
lightened amateur  of  the  arts  and  of  history,  has  been 
engaged  since  1848  in  publishing  a  series  of  Portraits  or 
"  Crayons "  of  the  celebrated  personages  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  hings,  queens,  mistresses  of  kings,  etc.,  the  whole 
forming  already  a  folio  volume.  M.  Xiel  has  applied  him- 
self in  this  collection  to  reproduce  none  but  authentic 
portraits  and  soLly  from  the  original,  and  he  has  confined 
himself  to  a  single  form  of  portraiture,  that  which  was 
drawn  in  crayons  of  divers  colours  by  artists  of  the  sixteenth 
century.  "  They  designated  in  those  days  by  the  name  of 
'  crayons,' "  he  observes,  "  certain  portraits  executed  on  paper 
in  red  chalk,  in  black  lead,  and  in  white  chalk,  shaded  and 
touched  in  a  way  to  present  the  effect  of  painting."  These 
designs,  faithfully  reproduced,  in  which  the  red  tone  pre- 
dominates, are  for  the  most  part  originally  due  to  un- 
knovrn  artists,  who  seem  to  have  belonged  to  the  true 
French  lineage  of  art.  They  resemble  the  humble  com- 
panions and  followers  of  our  chroniclers  who  simply  sought 
in  their  rapid  sketches  to  catch  physiognomies,  such  as  they 
saw  them,  with  truth  and  candour;  the  likeness  alone  con- 
cerned them. 

FranQois  I.  leads  the  procession  with  his  obscure  wives, 
and  one,  at  least,  of  his  obscure  mistresses,  the  Comtesse  de 
Chateaubriant.  Henri  II.  succeeds  him,  giving  one  hand  to 
Catherine  de'  jMedici,  the  other  to  Diane  de  Poitiers.  "We 
are  shovrn  a  Marie  Stuart,  young,  before  and  after  her  widow- 

1  ITonore  '1e  BalzacV  volume,  in  t?ie  T'hilosophical  Sprier  of  his  "  Com- 
edy of  Huiiiiin  Life,"  on  Catlierine  de'  Medici,  while  called  a  romance,  is 
really  an  admirable  and  carefully  drawn  historical  portrait,  iiiid  might  be 
read  to  profit  in  connection  with  Brantome's  account  of  her.  — Tr. 


CATHERINE   DE'  MEDICI.  87 

hood.  In  general,  the  men  gain  most  from  this  rapid  repro- 
duction of  feature  ;  whereas  with  the  women  it  needs  an 
effort  of  tlie  imagination  to  catch  tlieir  delicacy  and  the 
liower  of  their  beauty.  Charles  IX.  at  twelve  years  of  tige, 
and  again  at  eighteen  and  twenty,  is  there  to  the  life  and 
caught  from  nature.  Henri  IV.  is  shown  to  us  younger  and 
fresher  than  as  we  are  wont  to  see  him, —  a  Henri  de  Navarre 
quite  novel  and  before  his  beard  grizzled.  His  first  wife, 
Marguerite  de  Valois,  is  portrayed  at  her  most  beauteous 
age,  but  so  masked  by  her  costume  and  cramped  in  her  ruff 
that  we  need  to  be  aware  of  her  charm  to  be  certain  that  the 
doll-like  figure  had  any.  Gabrielle  d'Estrdes,  who  stands 
aloof,  stiffly  imprisoned  in  her  gorgeous  clothes,  also  needs 
explanation  and  reflection  before  she  appears  what  she  really 
was.  Tlie  testimony  of  "  Notices  "  aids  these  portraits ;  for 
M.  Niel  accompanies  his  personages  with  remarks  made  with 
erudition  and  an  inquiring  mind. 

One  of  the  brief  writings  of  that  period  which  make 
known  clearly  the  person  and  nature  of  Henri  IV.  is  the 
Memoir  of  the  first  president  of  Normandy,  Claude  Groulard, 
at  all  times  faithful  to  the  king,  who  has  left  us  a  naive 
account  of  his  frequent  journeys  to  that  prince  and  the  so- 
journs he  made  with  him.  Among  many  remarks  which 
Groulard  has  collected  from  the  lips  of  Henri  IV.  there  is 
one  that  paints  the  king  well  in  his  sound  good  sense,  his 
freedom  from  rancour,  and  his  knowledge  —  always  practical, 
never  ideal  —  of  human  beings.  Groulard  is  relating  the 
approaching  marriage  of  the  king  with  a  princess  of  Florence. 
When  Henri  IV.  announced  it  to  him  the  worthy  president 
replied  by  an  erudite  comparison  with  the  lance  of  Achilles, 
saying  that  the  Florentine  house  would  thus  repair  the 
wounds  it  had  given  to  France  in  the  person  of  Catherine 
de'  Medici.    "  But  I  ask  you,"  said  Henri  IV.,  speaking  there- 


88  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

upon  of  Catherine  and  excusing  her,  "  I  ask  you  what  a  poor 
woman  could  do,  left  by  the  death  of  her  husband,  with  five 
little  children  on  her  arms,  and  two  families  in  France  who 
were  thinking  to  grasp  the  crown,  —  ours  and  the  Guises. 
Was  she  not  compelled  to  play  strange  parts  to  deceive 
first  one  and  then  the  other,  in  order  to  guard,  as  she  has 
done,  her  sons,  who  have  successively  reigned  through  the 
wise  conduct  of  that  shrewd  woman  ?  I  am  surprised  that 
she  never  did  worse." 

Sainte-Beuve,  Causeries  du  Lundi  (1855). 


DISCOUESE  III. 

MARIE  STUART,  QUEEN  OF  SCOTLAND,  FORMERLY  QUEEN 
OF  OUR  FRANCE. 

Those  who  wish  to  write  of  this  illustrious  Queen  of 
Scotland  have  two  very  ample  subjects  :  one  her  life,  the 
other  her  death ;  both  very  ill  accompanied  by  good  fortune, 
as  I  shall  show  at  certain  points  in  this  short  Discourse  in 
form  of  epitome,  and  not  a  long  history,  which  I  leave  to 
be  written  by  persons  more  learned  and  better  given  to 
writing  than  I. 

This  queen  had  a  father,  King  James,  of  worth  and 
valour,  and  a  very  good  Frenchman ;  in  which  he  was  right. 
After  he  was  widowed  of  Madame  Magdelaine,  daughter  of 
France,  he  asked  King  Frangois  for  some  honourable  and 
virtuous  princess  of  his  kingdom  with  whom  to  re-marry, 
desiring  nothing  so  much  as  to  continue  his  alliance  with 
France, 

King  Frangois,  not  knowing  whom  to  choose  better  to 
content  the  good  prince,  gave  him  the  daughter  of  M.  de 
Guise,  Claude  do  Lorraine,  then  the  widow  of  M.  de  Longue- 
ville,  wise,  virtuous,  and  honourable,  of  which  King  James 
was  very  glad  and  esteemed  himself  fortunate  to  take  her ; 
and  after  he  had  taken  and  espoused  her  he  found  himself 
the  same  ;  the  kingdom  of  Scotland  also,  which  she  governed 
very  wisely  after  she  was  widowed  ;  which  event  happened  in 
a  few  years  after  her  marriage,  but  not  before  she  had  pro- 
duced a  fine  issue,  namely  this  most  beautiful  princess  in 
the  world,  our  queen,  of  whom  I  now  speak,  she  being,  as 


90  THE  BOOK  OF  THE   LADIES. 

one  might  say,  scarcely  born  and  still  at  the  breast,  when  the 
English  invaded  Scotland.  Her  mother  was  then  forced  to 
hide  her  from  place  to  place  in  Scotland  from  fear  of  that 
fury ;  and,  without  the  good  succour  King  Henri  sent  her 
she  would  scarce  have  been  saved ;  and  even  so  they  had  to 
put  her  on  ves.^els  and  expose  her  to  tlie  waves,  the  storms 
and  winds  of  the  sea  and  convey  her  to  France  for  greater 
security ;  where  certainly  ill  fortune,  not  being  able  to 
cross  the  seas  with  her  or  not  daring  to  attack  her  in  France, 
left  her  so  alone  that  good  fortune  took  her  by  the  hand. 
And,  as  her  youth  grew  on,  we  saw  her  great  beauty  and  her 
great  virtues  grow  likewise;  so  that,  coming  to  her  fifteenth 
year,  her  beauty  shone  like  the  light  at  mid-day,  effacing  the 
sun  when  it  shines  the  brightest,  so  beauteous  was  her  body. 
As  for  her  soul,  that  was  equal ;  she  had  made  herself 
learned  in  Latin,  so  that,  being  between  thirteen  and  four- 
teen years  of  age,  she  declaimed  before  King  Flenri,  the 
queen,  and  all  the  Court,  publicly  in  the  hall  of  the  Louvre, 
an  harangue  in  Latin,  which  she  had  made  Iierself,  main- 
taining and  defending,  against  common  opinion,  that  it  was 
well  l;ecoming  to  women  to  know  letters  and  the  liberal 
arts.  Think  what  a  rare  thing  and  admirable  it  wa=^,  to  see 
this  wise  and  beautiful  young  queen  thus  orate  in  Latin, 
which  she  knew  and  understood  right  well,  for  I  was  tliere 
and  saw  her.  Also  she  made  Antoine  Fochain,  of  Chauny 
in  Yermandois,  prepare  for  her  a  rhetoric  in  French,  which 
still  exists,  that  she  might  the  better  understand  it,  and 
make  herself  as  eloquent  in  French  as  she  had  been  in 
Latin,  and  better  than  if  she  had  been  born  in  France.  It 
was  good  to  see  her  speak  to  every  one,  whether  to  great  or 
small. 

As  long  as  she  lived  in  France  she  always  reser%-ed  two 
hours  daily  to  study  and  read ;  so  that  there  was  no  human 


MARIE   STUART.  91 

knowledge  she  could  not  talk  upon.  Above  all,  she  loved 
poesy  and  poets,  but  especially  M.  de  Eonsard,  M.  du  Bellay, 
and  M.  de  Maison-Fleur,^  who  all  made  beautiful  poems  and 
elegies  upon  her,  and  also  upon  her  departure  from  France, 
which  I  have  often  seen  her  reading  to  herself,  in  France  and 
in  Scotland,  with  tears  in  her  eyes  and  sighs  from  her 
heart. 

She  was  a  poet  herself  and  composed  verses,  of  which  I 
have  seen  some  that  were  fine  and  well  done  and  in  no  wise 
resembling  those  they  have  laid  to  her  account  on  her  love 
for  the  Earl  of  Bothwell,  which  are  too  coarse  and  too  ill- 
polished  to  have  come  from  lier  beautiful  making.  M.  de 
Itonsard  was  of  my  opinion  as  to  this  one  day  when  we  were 
reading  and  discussing  them.  Those  she  composed  were  far 
more  beautiful  and  dainty,  and  quickly  done,  for  1  have 
often  seen  her  retire  to  her  cabinet  and  soon  return  to  show 
them  to  such  of  us  good  folk  as  were  there  present.  More- 
over she  wrote  well  in  prose,  especially  letters,  of  which  I 
have  seen  many  that  were  very  fine  and  eloquent  and  lofty. 
At  all  times  when  she  tallied  with  others  she  used  a  most 
gentle,  dainty,  and  agreeable  style  of  speech,  with  kindly 
majesty,  mingled,  however,  with  discreet  and  modest  reserve, 
and  above  all  with  beautiful  grace  ;  so  that  even  her  native 
tongue,  which  in  itself  is  very  rustic,  barbarous,  ill-sounding, 
and  uncouth,  she  spoke  so  gracefully,  toning  it  in  such  a  way, 
that  she  made  it  seem  beautiful  and  agreeable  in  her,  though 
never  so  in  others. 

See  what  virtue  there  was  in  such  beauty  and  grace  that 
they  could  turn  coarse  barbarism  into  sweet  civility  and 
social  grace.  "SVe  must  not  be  surprised  therefore  that  be- 
ing dressed  (as  I  have  seen  her)  in  the  barbarous  costume 
of  the  uncivilized  people  of  her  country,  she  appeared,  in 
^  See  Appendix. 


92  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

mortal  body  and  coarse  ungainly  clothing  a  true  goddess. 
Those  who  have  seen  her  thus  dressed  will  admit  this  truth ; 
and  those  who  did  not  see  her  can  look  at  her  portrait,  in 
which  she  is  thus  attired.  I  have  heard  the  queen-mother, 
and  the  king  too,  say  that  she  looked  more  beautiful,  more 
agreeable,  more  desirable  in  that  picture  than  in  any  of  the 
others.  But  how  else  could  she  look,  whether  in  her  beauti- 
ful rich  jewels,  in  French  or  Spanish  style,  or  wearing  her 
Italian  caps,  or  in  her  mourning  garments  ?  —  which  latter 
made  her  most  beautiful  to  see,  for  the  whiteness  of  her 
face  contended  with  the  whiteness  of  her  veil  as  to  which 
should  carry  the  day ;  but  the  texture  of  her  veil  lost  it ; 
the  snow  of  her  pure  face  dimmed  the  other,  so  that  when 
she  appeared  at  Court  in  her  mourning  the  following  song 
was  made  upon  her :  — 

"  L'on  voit,  sous  blanc  atour 
En  grand  deuil  et  tristesse, 
Se  pourmener  mainct  tour 
De  beaute  la  deese, 
Tenant  le  trait  en  main 
De  son  fils  inhumain ; 

"  Et  Amour,  sans  fronteau, 
Voletter  autour  d'elle, 
Desguisant  son  bandeau 
En  un  funebre  voile, 
Oil  sont  ces  mots  ecrits  : 
Mourir  ou  etre  pris.''^  ^ 

That  is  how  this  princess  appeared  under  all  fashions  of 
clothes,  whether  barbarous,  worldly,  or  austere.  She  had 
also  one  other  perfection  with  which  to  charm  the  world,  —  a 
voice  most  sweet  and  excellent ;  for  she  sang  well,  attuning 
her  voice  to  the  lute,  which  she  touched  very  prettily  with 
that  white  hand  and  those  beautiful  fingers,  perfectly  made, 
^  See  Appendix. 


MARIE  STUART.  93 

yielding  in  nothing  to  those  of  Aurora.  What  more  remains 
to  tell  of  her  beauty  ?  —  if  not  this  saying  about  her :  that  the 
sun  of  her  Scotland  was  very  unlike  her,  for  on  certain  days 
of  the  year  it  shines  but  five  hours,  while  she  shone  ever,  so 
that  her  clear  rays  illumined  her  land  and  her  people,  who  of 
all  others  needed  light,  being  far  estranged  from  the  sun  of 
heaven.  Ah !  kingdom  of  Scotland,  I  think  your  days  are 
shorter  now  than  they  ever  were,  and  your  nights  the  longer, 
since  you  have  lost  the  princess  who  illumined  you !  But 
you  have  been  ungrateful ;  you  never  recognized  your  duty 
of  fidelity,  as  you  should  have  done ;  which  I  shall  speak  of 
presently. 

This  lady  and  princess  pleased  France  so  much  that  King 
Henri  was  urged  to  give  her  in  alliance  to  the  dauphin,  his 
beloved  son,  who,  for  his  part,  was  madly  in  love  with  her. 
The  marriage  was  therefore  solemnly  celebrated  in  the  great 
church  and  tlie  palace  of  Paris ;  where  we  saw  this  queen 
appear  more  beauteous  than  a  goddess  from  the  skies, 
whether  in  the  morning,  going  to  her  espousals  in  noble 
majesty,  or  leading,  after  dinner,  at  the  ball,  or  advancing  in 
the  evening  with  modest  steps  to  offer  and  perform  her  vows 
to  Hymen ;  so  that  the  voice  of  all  as  one  man  resounded 
and  proclaimed  throughout  the  Court  and  the  great  city  that 
happy  a  hundredfold  was  he,  the  prince,  thus  joined  to  such 
a  princess ;  and  even  if  Scotland  were  a  thing  of  price  its 
queen  out-valued  it ;  for  had  she  neither  crown  nor  sceptre, 
her  person  and  her  glorious  beauty  were  worth  a  kingdom ; 
therefore,  being  a  queen,  she  brought  to  Trance  and  to  her 
husband  a  double  fortune. 

This  was  what  the  world  went  saying  of  her  ;  and  for  this 
reason  she  was  called  queen-dauphine  and  her  husband  the 
king-dauphin,  they  living  together  in  great  love  and  pleasant 
concord. 


94  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

Next,  King  Henri  dying,  they  came  to  be  King  and  Queen 
of  rrance,  the  king  and  queen  of  two  great  kingdoms,  happy, 
and  most  happy  in  themselves,  had  death  not  seized  the  king 
and  left  her  widowed  in  the  sweet  April  of  her  finest  youth, 
having  enjoyed  together  of  love  and  pleasure  and  felicity  but 
four  short  years,  —  a  felicity  indeed  of  short  duration,  which 
evil  fortune  might  well  have  spared ;  but  no,  malignant  as 
she  is,  she  wished  to  miserably  treat  this  princess,  who  made 
a  song  herself  upon  her  sorrows  in  this  wise :  — 

En  mon  triste  et  doux  chant, 
D'un  ton  fort  lamentable, 
Je  jette  un  deuil  tranchant, 
De  perte  incomparable, 
Et  en  soupirs  cuisans, 
Passe  mes  meilleurs  ans. 

Fut-il  uu  tel  mallieur 
De  dure  destinde, 
N'y  si  triste  douleur 
De  dame  fortunde, 
Qui  mon  cceur  et  mon  oeil 
Vois  en  bierre  et  cercueil, 

Qui  en  mon  doux  printemps 
Et  fleur  de  ma  jeunesse, 
Toutes  les  jjeiues  sens 
D'une  extresme  tristesse, 
Et  en  rien  n'ay  plaisir 
Qu'en  regret  et  desir  ? 

Ce  qui  m'estoit  plaisant 
Ores  m'est  peine  dure; 
Le  jour  le  plus  luisant 
INl'est  unit  noire  et  obscure. 
Et  n'est  rien  si  cxquis 
Qui  de  moy  soit  requis. 

J'ay  au  ca'ur  et  k  I'oeil 
Un  portrait  et  image 


MARIE  STUART.  95 

Qui  figure  mon  deuil 
Et  mon  pasle  visage, 
De  violettes  teiut, 
Qui  est  I'amoureux  teint. 

Pour  mon  mal  estranger 
Je  ne  m'arreste  en  place  ; 
Mais  j'en  ay  beau  clianger, 
Si  ma  douleur  n'efface ; 
Car  mon  pis  et  mon  mieux 
Sout  les  plus  deserts  lieux. 

Si  en  quelque  sejour, 
Soit  en  bois  ou  en  pree. 
Soit  sur  I'aube  du  jour, 
Ou  soit  sur  la  vespree, 
Sans  cesse  mon  coeur  sent 
Le  regret  d'un  absent. 

Si  parfois  vers  les  cieux 
Tiens  h  dresser  ma  veue, 
Le  doux  traict  de  ses  yeux 
Je  vols  en  une  nue ; 
Ou  bien  je  le  vols  en  I'eau, 
Comme  dans  un  tombeau. 

Si  je  suis  en  repos 
Sommeillant  sur  ma  couche, 
J'oy  qu'il  me  tient  propos, 
Je  le  sens  qui  me  touche : 
En  labeur,  en  recoy 
Tousjours  est  prfes  de  moy. 

Je  ne  vois  autre  object, 
Pour  beau  qu'il  prdsente 
A  qui  que  soit  subject, 
Oncques  mon  coeur  consente, 
Exempt  de  perfection 
A  cetle  affection. 

Mets,  chanson,  icy  fln 
A  si  triste  complainte, 


96  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

Dont  sera  le  refrein  : 
Amour  vraye  et  non  feinte 
Pour  la  separation 
N'aura  diminution.^ 

Sucbi  are  the  regrets  which  this  sad  queen  went  piteously 
singing,  and  manifesting  even  more  by  her  pale  face ;  for,  from 
the  time  she  became  a  widow,  I  never  saw  her  colour  return 
during  the  time  I  had  the  honour  to  see  her  in  France  and 
in  Scotland  ;  whither  at  the  end  of  eighteen  months  she  was 
forced  to  go,  to  her  great  regret,  to  pacify  her  kingdom, 
much  divided  on  account  of  religion.  Alas  !  she  had  neither 
wish  nor  will  to  go.  I  have  often  heard  her  say  she  dreaded 
that  journey  like  death ;  and  preferred  a  hundredfold  to  stay 
in  France  a  simple  dowager,  and  would  content  herself 
with  Touraine  and  Poitou  for  her  dowry,  rather  than  go  to 
reign  in  her  savage  country ;  but  messieurs  her  imcles,  at 
least  some  of  them,  but  not  all,  advised  her,  indeed  they 
urged  her  (I  will  not  tell  the  occasions),  for  which  they  have 
since  repented  sorely. 

As  to  this,  there  is  no  doubt  that  if,  at  her  departure  King 
Charles,  her  husband's  brother,  had  been  of  age  to  marry, 
and  not  so  small  and  young  (though  much  in  love  with  her, 
as  I  have  seen),  he  would  never  have  let  her  go,  but  resolutely 
would  have  wedded  her ;  for  I  have  seen  him  so  in  love 
that  never  did  he  look  upon  her  portrait  that  his  eyes  were 
not  fixed  and  ravished,  as  though  he  could  not  take  them 
from  it  nor  yet  be  satisfied.  And  often  have  I  heard  him 
call  her  the  most  beauteous  princess  ever  born  into  the 
world,  and  say  how  he  thought  the  king,  his  brother,  too 
happy  to  have  enjoyed  the  love  of  such  a  princess,  and  that 
he  ought  in  no  wise  to  regret  his  death  in  the  tomb  since  he 
had   possessed  in  this  world  such  beauty  and  pleasure  for 

^  See  Appendix. 


MARIE  STUART.  97 

the  little  time  he  stayed  here ;  and  also  that  such  happiness 
was  worth  a  kingdom.  So  that  had  she  remained  in  Trance 
he  would  surely  have  wedded  her ;  he  was  resolved  upon  it, 
although  she  was  his  sister-in-law,  but  the  pope  would  never 
have  refused  the  dispensation,  seeing  that  he  had  already  in 
like  case  granted  one  to  his  own  subject,  M.  de  Love,  and 
also  to  the  Marquis  d'Aguilar  in  Spain,  and  many  others  in 
that  country,  where  they  make  no  difficulty  in  maintaining 
their  estates  and  do  not  waste  and  dissipate  them,  as  we 
do  in  France. 

Much  discourse  on  this  subject  have  I  heard  from  him, 
and  from  many,  which  I  shall  omit,  not  to  wander  from  the 
topic  of  our  queen,  wlio  was  at  last  persuaded,  as  I  have 
said,  to  return  to  her  kingdom  of  Scotland ;  but  her  voyage 
being  postponed  till  the  spring  she  did  so  much  to  delay  it 
from  month  to  month  that  she  did  not  depart  until  the  end 
of  the  month  of  August.  I  must  mention  that  this  spring, 
in  which  she  thought  to  leave,  came  so  tardily,  and  was  so 
cold  and  grievous,  that  in  the  month  of  April  it  gave  no 
sign  of  donning  its  beautiful  green  robe  or  its  lovely  flowers. 
On  which  the  gallants  of  the  Court  augured  and  proclaimed 
that  the  spring  had  changed  its  pleasant  season  for  a  hard 
and  grievous  winter,  and  would  not  wear  its  beauteous 
colours  or  its  verdure  because  it  mourned  the  departure  of 
this  sweet  queen,  who  was  its  lustre.  M.  de  Maison-Fleur, 
a  charming  knight  for  letters  and  for  arms,  made  on  that 
theme  a  most  fine  elegy. 

The  beginning  of  the  autumn  having  come,  the  queen, 
after  thus  delaying,  was  forced  to  abandon  France ;  and 
having  travelled  by  land  to  Calais,  accompanied  by  aU  her 
uncles,  M.  de  Nemours,  most  of  the  great  and  honourable 
of  the  Court,  together  with  the  ladies,  like  Mme.  de  Guise 
and  others,  all  regretting  and  weeping  hot  tears  for  the  loss 

7 


98  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

of  such  a  queen,  she  found  in  port  two  galleys :  one  that  of 
M.  de  Mevillon,  the  other  that  of  Captain  Albise,  with  two 
convoying  vessels  for  sole  armament.  After  six  days'  rest  at 
Calais,  having  said  her  piteous  farewells  all  full  of  sighs  to 
the  great  company  about  her,  from  the  greatest  to  the 
least,  she  embarked,  having  her  uncles  with  her.  Messieurs 
d'Aumale,  the  grand  prior,  and  d'Elboeuf,  and  M.  d'Amville 
(now  M.  le  Conn^table),  together  with  many  of  us,  all  nobles, 
on  board  the  galley  of  M.  de  Mevillon,  as  being  the  best  and 
handsomest. 

As  the  vessel  began  to  leave  the  port,  the  anchor  being  up, 
we  saw,  in  the  open  sea,  a  vessel  sink  before  us  and  perish, 
and  many  of  the  sailors  drown  for  not  having  taken  the 
channel  rightly ;  on  seeing  which  the  queen  cried  out  in- 
continently :  "  Ah,  my  God  !  what  an  omen  is  this  for  my 
journey!"  The  galley  being  now  out  of  port  and  a  fresh 
wind  rising,  we  began  to  make  sail,  and  the  convicts  rested 
on  their  oars.  The  queen,  without  thinking  of  other  action, 
leaned  her  two  arms  on  the  poop  of  the  galley,  beside  the 
rudder,  and  burst  into  tears,  casting  her  beauteous  eyes  to 
the  port  and  land  she  had  left,  saying  ever  these  sad 
words :  "  Adieu,  France  !  adieu,  France  ! "  —  repeating  them 
again  and  again;  and  this  sad  exercise  she  did  for  nearly 
five  hours,  until  the  night  began  to  fall,  when  they  asked 
her  if  she  would  not  come  away  from  there  and  take  some 
supper.  On  that,  her  tears  redoublmg,  she  said  these  words ; 
"  This  is  indeed  the  hour,  my  dear  France,  when  I  must 
lose  you  from  sight,  because  the  gloomy  night,  envious  of 
my  content  in  seeing  you  as  long  as  I  am  able,  hangs  a 
black  veil  before  mine  eyes  to  rob  me  of  that  joy.  Adieu, 
then,  my  dear  France;  I  shall  see  you  nevermore !" 

Then  she  retired,  saying  she  had  done  the  contrary  of 
Dido,  who  looked  to  the  sea  when  ^neas  left  her,  while  she 


MARIE  STUARX  99 

had  looked  to  land.  She  wished  to  lie  down  without  eating 
more  than  a  salad,  and  as  she  would  not  descend  into  the 
cabin  of  the  poop,  they  brought  her  bed  and  set  it  up  on 
the  deck  of  the  poop,  where  she  rested  a  little,  but  did  not 
cease  her  sighs  and  tears.  She  commanded  the  steersman 
to  wake  her  as  soon  as  it  was  day  if  he  saw  or  could  even 
just  perceive  the  coasts  of  France,  and  not  to  fear  to  call  her. 
In  this,  fortune  favoured  her ;  for  the  wind  having  ceased 
and  the  vessel  having  again  had  recourse  to  oars,  but  little 
way  was  made  during  the  night,  so  that  when  day  appeared 
the  shores  of  France  could  still  be  seen ;  and  the  steersman 
not  having  failed  to  obey  her,  she  rose  in  her  bed  and  gazed 
at  France  again,  and  as  long  as  she  could  see  it.  But  the 
galley  now  receding,  her  contentment  receded  too,  and  again 
she  said  those  words :  "  Adieu,  my  France ;  I  think  that  I 
shall  never  see  you  more." 

Did  she  desire,  this  once,  that  an  English  armament  (with 
which  we  were  threatened)  should  appear  and  constrain  her 
to  give  up  her  voyage  and  return  to  the  port  she  had  left  ? 
But  if  so,  God  in  that  would  not  favour  her  wishes,  for,  with- 
out further  hindrance  of  any  kind  we  reached  Petit-Lict 
[Leith].  Of  the  voyage  I  must  tell  a  little  incident :  the  first 
evening  after  we  embarked,  the  Seigneur  Chastellard  (the 
same  who  was  afterwards  executed  for  presumption,  not  for 
crime,  as  I  shall  tell),  being  a  charming  cavalier,  a  man  of 
good  sword  and  good  letters,  said  this  pretty  thing  when  he 
saw  them  lighting  the  binnacle  lamp :  "  There  is  no  need  of 
that  lamp  or  this  torch  to  light  us  by  sea,  for  the  eyes  of  our 
queen  are  dazzling  enough  to  flash  their  fine  fires  along  the 
waves  and  illume  them,  if  need  be." 

I  must  note  that  the  day  before  we  amved  at  Scotland, 
being  a  Sunday,  so  great  a  fog  arose  that  we  could  not  see  from 
the  poop  to  the  mast  of  the  galley ;  at  which  the  pilot  and  tlio 


100  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

overseers  of  the  galley-slaves  were  much  confounded, —  so 
much  so,  that  out  of  necessity  we  had  to  cast  anchor  in  open 
sea,  and  take  soundings  to  know  where  we  were.  The  fog 
lasted  all  one  day  and  all  the  night  until  eight  o'clock  on  the 
following  morning,  when  we  found  ourselves  surrounded  hy 
innumerable  reefs ;  so  that  had  we  gone  forward,  or  even  to 
one  side,  the  ship  would  have  struck  and  we  should  have 
perished.  On  which  the  queen  said  that,  for  her  part,  she 
should  not  have  cared,  wishing  for  nothing  so  much  as  death  ; 
but  that  not  for  her  whole  kingdom  of  Scotland  would  she 
have  wished  it  or  willed  it  for  others.  Having  now  sighted 
and  seen  (for  the  fog  had  risen)  the  coast  of  Scotland,  there 
were  some  among  us  who  augured  and  predicted  upon  the 
said  fog,  that  it  boded  we  were  now  to  land  in  a  quarrel- 
some, mischief-making,  unpleasant  kingdom  {pvyauriie  hrou- 
ille,  hrouillon,  et  mul  plaiscint]. 

We  entered  and  cast  anchor  at  Petit-Lict,  where  the  prin- 
cipal persons  of  that  place  and  Islebourg  [Edinburgh]  were 
gathered  to  meet  their  queen  ;  and  then,  having  sojourned  at 
Petit-Lict  only  two  hours,  it  was  necessary  to  continue  our 
way  to  Islebourg,  which  was  barely  a  league  farther.  The 
queen  went  on  horseback,  and  the  ladies  and  seigneurs  on 
nags  of  the  country,  such  as  they  were,  and  saddled  and 
bridled  the  same.  On  seeing  which  accoutrements  the  queen 
began  to  weep  and  say  that  these  were  not  the  pomps,  tlie 
dignities,  the  magnificences,  nor  yet  the  superb  horses  of 
France,  which  she  had  enjoyed  so  long ;  but  since  she  must 
change  her  paradise  for  hell,  she  must  needs  take  patience. 
And  what  is  worse  was  that  when  she  went  to  bed,  being 
lodged  on  the  lower  floor  of  tlie  abbey  of  Islebourg  [Holy- 
rood],  which  is  certainly  a  noble  building  and  is  not  like  the 
country,  there  came  beneath  her  window  some  five  or  six 
hundred  scoundrels  of  the  town,  who  gave  her  a  serenade 


MARIE  STUAET.  101 

with  wretched  violins  and  little  rebecks  (of  which  there  is 
no  lack  in  Scotland),  to  which  they  chanted  psalms  so  badly 
sung  and  so  out  of  tune  that  nothing  could  be  worse.  Ha  1 
what  music  and  what  repose  for  her  first  night ! 

The  next  morning  they  would  have  killed  her  chaplain  in 
front  of  her  lodging;  had  he  not  escaped  quickly  into  her 
chamber  he  was  dead ;  they  would  have  done  to  him  as  they 
did  later  to  her  secretary  David  [Eiccio]  whom,  because  he 
was  clever,  the  queen  liked  for  the  management  of  her  affairs ; 
but  they  killed  him  in  her  room,  so  close  to  her  that  the 
blood  spurted  upon  her  gown  and  he  fell  dead  at  her  feet. 
What  an  indignity  !  But  they  did  many  other  indignities  to 
her ;  therefore  must  we  not  be  astonished  if  they  spoke  ill  of 
her.  On  this  attempt  being  made  against  her  chaplain  she 
became  so  sad  and  vexed  that  she  said :  "  This  is  a  fine  be- 
ginning of  obedience  and  welcome  from  my  subjects  !  I  know 
not  what  may  be  the  end,  but  I  foresee  it  will  be  bad." 
Thus  the  poor  princess  showed  herself  a  second  Cassandra  in 
prophecy  as  she  was  in  beauty. 

Being  now  there,  she  lived  about  three  years  very  dis- 
creetly in  her  widowhood,  and  would  have  continued  to  do 
so,  but  the  Parliament  of  her  kingdom  begged  her  and  en- 
treated her  to  marry,  in  order  that  she  might  leave  them  a 
fine  king  conceived  by  her,  like  him  of  the  present  day 
[James  I].  There  are  some  who  say  that,  during  tlie  first 
wars,  the  King  of  Navarre  desired  to  marry  her,  repudiating 
the  queen  his  wife,  on  account  of  the  Religion ;  but  to  this 
she  would  not  consent,  saying  she  had  a  soul,  and  would  not 
lose  it  for  all  the  grandeurs  of  the  world,  —  making  great 
scruple  of  espousing  a  married  man. 

At  last  she  wedded  a  young  English  lord,  of  a  great  house, 
but  not  her  equal  [Henry  Darnley,  Earl  of  Lennox,  her 
cousin].     The  marriage  was  not  happy  for  either  the  one  or 


102  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

the  other.  I  shall  not  here  relate  how  the  king  her  husband, 
having  made  her  a  very  fine  child,  who  reigns  to-day,  died, 
being  killed  by  a  fougade  [small  mine]  exploded  where  he 
lodged.  The  history  of  that  is  written  and  printed,  but  not 
with  truth  as  to  the  accusations  raised  against  the  queen  of 
consenting  to  the  deed.  They  are  lies  and  insults ;  for  never 
was  that  queen  cruel ;  she  was  always  kind  and  very  gentle. 
Never  in  France  did  she  any  cruelty,  nor  would  she  take 
pleasure  or  have  the  heart  to  see  poor  criminals  put  to  death 
by  justice,  like  many  grandees  whom  I  have  known ;  and 
when  she  was  in  her  galley  never  would  she  allow  a  single 
convict  to  be  beaten,  were  it  ever  so  little ;  she  bejrfjed  her 
uncle,  the  grand-prior,  as  to  this,  and  commanded  it  to  the 
overseer  herself,  having  great  compassion  for  their  misery, 
so  that  her  heart  was  sick  for  it. 

To  end  this  topic,  never  did  cruelty  lodge  in  the  heart  of 
such  great  and  tender  beauty ;  they  are  liars  who  have  said 
and  written  it ;  among  others  M.  Buchanan,-^  who  ill  returned 
the  kindnesses  the  queen  had  done  him  both  in  France  and 
Scotland  in  saving  liis  life  and  relieving  him  from  banish- 
ment. It  would  have  been  better  had  he  employed  his  most 
excellent  knowledge  in  speaking  better  of  her,  and  not  about 
the  amours  of  Bothwell ;  even  to  transcribing  sonnets  she  had 
made,  which  those  who  knew  her  poesy  and  her  learning 
have  always  said  vrere  never  written  by  her ;  nor  did  they 
judge  less  falsely  that  amour,  for  Bothwell  was  a  most  ugly 
man,  with  as  bad  a  grace  as  could  be  seen. 

But  if  this  one  [Buchanan]  said  no  good,  others  have 
written  a  noble  book  upon  her  innocence,  wliich  I  have 
seen,  and  which  declared  and  proved  it  so  that  the  poorest 
minds  took  hold  of  it  and  even  her  enemies  paid  heed ;  but 

1  George  Buchanan,  historian  and  Scotch  poet,  who  wrote  libels  and 
calumnies  against  Marie  Stuart  in  prison      (French  editor.) 


MARIE  STUART  103 

they,  wishing  to  ruin  her,  as  they  did  in  the  end,  were  obsti- 
nate, and  never  ceased  to  persecute  her  until  she  was  put 
into  a  strong  castle,  which  they  say  is  that  of  Saint- Andrew 
in  Scotland.  There,  having  lived  nearly  one  year  miserably 
captive,  she  was  delivered  by  means  of  a  most  honourable 
and  brave  gentleman  of  that  land  and  of  good  family,  named 
M.  de  Beton,  wliom  I  knew  and  saw,  and  who  related  to 
me  the  whole  story,  as  we  were  crossing  the  river  before  the 
Louvre,  when  he  came  to  bring  the  news  to  the  king.  He 
was  nephew  to  the  Bishop  of  Glasco,  ambassador  to  France, 
one  of  the  most  worthy  men  and  prelates  ever  known,  and 
who  remained  a  faithful  servant  to  his  mistress  to  her  last 
breath,  and  is  so  still,  after  her  death. 

So  then,  the  queen,  being  at  liberty,  did  not  stay  idle; 
in  less  than  no  time  she  gathered  an  army  of  those  whom 
she  thought  her  most  faithful  adherents,  leading  it  herself,  — 
at  its  head,  mounted  on  a  good  horse,  dressed  in  a  simple 
petticoat  of  white  taffetas,  with  a  coif  of  crepe  on  her  head ; 
at  which  I  have  seen  many  persons  wonder,  even  the  queen- 
mother,  that  so  tender  a  princess,  and  so  dainty  as  she  was 
and  had  been  all  her  life,  should  accustom  herself  at  once 
to  the  hardships  of  war.  But  what  would  one  not  endure 
to  reign  absolutely  and  revenge  one's  self  upon  a  rebellious 
people,  and  reduce  it  to  obedience  ? 

Behold  this  queen,  therefore,  beautiful  and  generous,  like 
a  second  Zenobia,  at  the  head  of  her  army,  leading  it  on  to 
face  that  of  her  enemies  and  to  give  battle.  But  alas  !  what 
misfortune !  Just  as  she  thought  her  side  would  engage  the 
others,  just  as  she  was  animating  and  exhorting  them  with 
her  noble  and  valorous  words,  which  might  have  moved  the 
rocks,  they  raised  their  lances  without  fighting,  and,  first  on 
one  side  and  then  upon  another,  threw  down  their  arms,  em- 
braced, and  were  friends ;  and  all,  confederated  and  sworn 


104  THE   BOOK   OF  THE   LADIES. 

together,  plotted  to  seize  the  queen,  and  make  her  prisonei 
and  take  her  to  England.  M.  Coste,  the  steward  of  her 
household,  a  gentleman  of  Auvergne,  related  this  to  the 
queen-mother,  having  come  from  there,  and  met  her  at 
Saint-Maur,  where  he  told  it  also  to  many  of  us. 

After  this  she  was  taken  to  England,  where  she  was 
lodged  in  a  castle  and  so  closely  confined  in  captivity  that 
she  never  left  it  for  eighteen  or  tvventy  years  until  her 
death ;  to  which  she  was  sentenced  too  cruelly  for  the 
reasons,  such  as  they  were,  that  were  given  on  her  trial ; 
but  the  principal,  as  I  hold  on  good  authority,  was  that  the 
Queen  of  England  never  liked  her,  Vjut  was  always  and  for 
a  long  time  jealous  of  her  beauty,  which  far  surpassed  her 
own.  That  is  what  jealousy  is  !  —  and  for  religion  too  !  So 
it  was  that  this  princess,  after  her  long  imprisonment,  was 
condemned  to  death  and  to  have  lier  head  cut  off;  this 
judgment  was  pronounced  upon  her  two  months  before  she 
was  executed.  Some  say  that  she  knew  nothing  of  it  until 
they  went  to  execute  her.  Others  declare  that  it  was  told 
to  her  two  months  earlier,  as  the  queen-mother,  who  was 
greatly  distressed,  was  informed  at  Coignac,  where  she  then 
was  ;  and  she  was  even  told  of  this  particular :  no  sooner 
was  the  judgment  pronounced  than  Queen  Marie's  chamber 
and  bed  were  hung  with  black.  The  queen-mother  tiiereon 
praised  the  firmness  of  the  Queen  of  Scotland  and  said  she 
had  never  seen  or  heard  tell  of  any  queen  more  steadfast 
in  adversity.  I  was  present  when  she  said  this,  but  I  never 
thought  th-}  Queen  of  England  would  let  her  die,  —  not 
esteeming  her  so  cruel  as  all  that.  Of  her  own  nature  she 
was  not  (though  she  was  in  this).  I  also  thought  that  M. 
de  Bellievre,  whom  the  king  despatched  to  save  her  life, 
would  have  worked  out  something  good ;  nevertheless,  he 
gained  nothing. 


MARIE  STUART.  105 

But  to  come  to  this  pitiful  death,  which  no  one  can 
describe  without  great  compassion.  On  the  seventeenth  of 
February  of  the  year  one  thousand  five  hundred  and  eighty- 
seven,  theie  came  to  the  place  where  the  queen  was  prisoner, 
a  castle  called  Fodringhaye,  the  commissioners  of  the 
Queen  of  England,  sent  by  her  (I  shall  not  give  their  names, 
as  it  would  serve  no  end)  about  two  or  three  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  ;  and  in  presence  of  Paulet,  her  guardian  or  jailer, 
read  aloud  their  commission  to  the  prisoner  touching  her 
execution,  declaring  to  her  that  the  next  morning  they  should 
proceed  to  it,  and  admonishing  her  to  be  ready  between  seven 
and  eight  o'clock. 

She,  without  in  any  way  being  surprised,  thanked  them 
for  their  good  news,  saying  that  nothing  could  be  better 
for  her  than  to  come  to  the  end  of  her  misery  ;  and  that  for 
long,  ever  since  her  detention  in  England,  she  had  resolved 
and  prepared  herself  to  die ;  entreating,  nevertheless,  the 
commissioners  to  grant  her  a  little  time  and  leisure  to  make 
her  will  and  put  her  affairs  in  order,  —  inasmuch  as  all  de- 
pended upon  their  will,  as  their  commission  said.  To  which 
the  Comte  de  Cherusbery  [Earl  of  Shrewsbury]  replied 
rather  roughly :  "  No,  no,  madame,  you  must  die.  Hold 
yourself  ready  between  seven  and  eight  to-morrow  morning. 
We  shall  not  prolong  the  delay  by  a  moment."  There  was 
one,  more  courteous  it  seemed  to  her,  who  wished  to  use 
some  demonstrations  that  might  give  her  more  firmness  to 
endure  such  death.  She  answered  him  that  she  had  no  need 
of  consolation,  at  least  not  as  coming  from  him  ;  but  tliat  if 
he  wished  to  do  a  good  office  to  her  conscience  he  would 
send  for  her  almoner  to  confess  her ;  which  would  be  an 
obligation  that  surpassed  all  others.  As  for  her  body,  she 
said  she  did  not  think  they  would  be  so  inhuman  as  to 
deny  her  the  right  of  sepulture.     To  this  he  replied  that 


106  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

she  must  not  expect  it ;  so  that  she  was  forced  to  write  her 
confession,  which  was  as  follows :  — 

"  I  have  to-day  been  combated  for  my  religion  ard  to  make 
me  receive  the  consolation  of  heretics.  You  will  hear  from 
Bourgoing  and  others  that  I  have  faithfully  made  protesta- 
tion of  my  faith,  in  which  I  choose  to  die.  I  requested  to 
have  you  here,  to  make  my  confession  and  to  receive  my 
sacrament ;  this  has  been  cruelly  refused  to  me,  also  the 
removal  of  my  body,  and  the  power  to  freely  make  my  will, 
or  to  write  aught,  except  through  their  hands.  In  default 
of  that,  I  confess  the  grievousness  of  my  sins  in  general, 
as  I  had  expected  to  make  to  you  in  particulars  ;  entreating 
you,  in  God's  name,  to  watch  and  pray  with  me  this  night 
for  the  forgiveness  of  my  sins,  and  to  send  me  absolution 
and  pardon  for  all  the  offences  which  I  have  committed.  I 
shall  endeavour  to  see  you  in  their  presence,  as  they  have 
granted  me ;  and  if  it  is  permitted  I  shall  ask  pardon  of  you 
before  them  all.  Advise  me  of  the  proper  prayers  to  use 
this  night  and  to-morrow  morning,  for  the  time  is  short  and 
I  have  no  leisure  to  write ;  I  shall  recommend  you  like  the 
rest,  and  especially  that  your  benefices  may  be  preserved  and 
secured  to  you,  and  I  shall  commend  you  to  the  king.  I 
have  no  more  leisure ;  advise  me  in  writing  of  all  you  think 
good  for  my  salvation." 

That  done,  and  having  thus  provided  for  the  salvation  of 
her  soul  before  all  things  else,  she  lost  no  time,  though 
little  remained  to  her  (yet  long  enough  to  have  shaken  the 
firmest  constancy,  but  in  her  they  saw  no  fear  of  death,  only 
much  content  to  leave  these  earthly  miseries),  in  writing  to 
our  king,  to  tlie  queen-mother,  whom  she  honoured  much, 
to  Monsieur  and  Madame  de  Guise,  and  other  private  per- 
sons, letters  truly  very  piteous,  but  all  aiming  to  let  them 
know  that  to  her  latest  hour  she  had  not  lost  memory  of 


MARIE  STUART.  107 

friends ;  and  also  the  contentment  she  received  in  seeins 
herself  delivered  from  so  many  woes  by  which  for  one  and 
twenty  years  she  had  been  crushed ;  also  she  sent  presents 
to  all,  of  a  value  and  price  in  keeping  with  a  poor,  unfortu- 
nate, and  captive  queen. 

After  this,  she  summoned  her  household,  from  the  highest 
to  the  lowest,  and  opened  her  coffers  to  see  how  much  money 
remained  to  her ;  this  she  divided  to  each  according  to  the 
service  she  had  had  from  them ;  and  to  her  women  she 
gave  what  remained  to  her  of  rings,  arrows,  headgear,  and 
accoutrements ;  telling  them  that  it  was  with  much  regret 
she  had  no  more  with  which  to  reward  them,  but  assuring 
them  that  her  son  would  make  up  for  her  deficiency ;  and 
she  begged  her  maitre  d'hotel  to  say  this  to  her  said  son ; 
to  whom  she  sent  her  blessing,  praying  him  not  to  avenge 
her  death,  leaving  all  to  God  to  order  according  to  His  holy 
will.  Then  she  bade  them  farewell  without  a  tear ;  on  the 
contrary  she  consoled  them,  saying  they  must  not  weep  to 
see  her  on  the  point  of  blessedness  in  exchange  for  all  the 
sorrows  she  had  had.  After  which  she  sent  them  from  her 
chamber,  except  her  women. 

It  now  being  night,  she  retired  to  her  oratory,  where  she 
prayed  to  God  two  hours  on  her  bare  knees  upon  the  ground, 
for  her  women  saw  them ;  then  she  returned  to  her  room 
and  said  to  them  :  "  I  think  it  would  be  best,  my  friends,  if 
I  ate  something  and  went  to  bed,  so  that  to-morrow  I  may 
do  nothing  unworthy  of  me,  and  that  my  heart  may  not 
fail  me."  What  generosity  and  what  courage  I  She  did 
as  she  said ;  and  taking  only  some  toast  with  wine  she  went 
to  bed,  where  she  slept  little,  but  spent  the  night  chiefly 
in  prayers  and  orisons. 

She  rose  about  two  hours  before  dawn  and  dressed  her- 
self as  properly  as  she  could,  and  better  than  usual ;  taking 


108  THE   BOOK  OF  TIIE  LADIES. 

a  gown  of  black  velvet,  which  she  had  reserved  from  her 
other  accoutrements,  saying  to  her  women :  "  My  friends,  I 
would  rather  have  left  you  this  attire  than  that  of  yesterday, 
hut  I  think  I  ought  to  go  to  death  a  little  honourably  and 
have  upon  me  something  more  than  common.  Here  is  a 
handkerchief,  which  I  also  reserved,  to  bind  my  eyes  when 
I  go  there ;  I  give  it  to  you,  ma  mie  (speaking  to  one  of  her 
women),  for  I  wish  to  receive  that  last  office  from  you." 

After  this,  she  retired  to  her  oratory,  having  bid  them 
adieu  once  more  and  kissed  them,  —  giving  them  many  par- 
ticulars to  tell  the  king,  the  queen,  and  her  relations ;  not 
things  that  tended  to  vengeance,  but  the  contrary.  Then 
she  took  the  sacrament  by  means  of  a  consecrated  wafer 
which  the  good  Pope  Pius  V.  had  sent  her  to  serve  in  some 
emergency,  the  which  she  had  always  most  sacredly  pre- 
served and  guarded. 

Having  said  her  prayers,  which  were  very  long,  it  now 
being  fully  morning  she  returned  to  her  chamber,  and  sat 
beside  the  fire  ;  still  talking  to  her  women  and  comforting 
them,  instead  of  their  comforting  her ;  she  said  that  the 
joys  of  the  world  were  nothing ;  that  she  ought  to  serve  as 
a  warninfT  to  the  rrreatest   of  the  earth  as  well  as    to  the 

o  o 

smallest,  for  she,  having  been  cpeen  of  the  kingdoms  of 
France  and  Scotland,  one  by  nature,  the  other  by  fortune, 
after  triumphing  in  the  midst  of  all  honours  and  grandeurs, 
was  reduced  to  the  hands  of  an  executioner ;  innocent,  how- 
ever, which  consoled  her.  She  told  them  their  Ijcst  pattern 
was  that  she  died  in  the  Catholic  religion,  holy  and  good, 
which  she  would  never  abandon  to  her  latest  brentli,  having 
been  baptized  therein  ;  and  that  she  wanted  no  faiiie  after 
her  death,  except  that  they  would  publish  her  iiiinness 
througliout  all  Prance  when  tliey  returned  tlierc,  as  she 
be[i"ed  of  them  ;  and  further,  thou'ih  she  knew  tbev  would 


MARIE  STUART.  109 

have  much  heart-break  to  see  her  on  the  scaffold  performing 
this  tragedy,  yet  she  wished  them  to  witness  her  death ; 
knowing  well  that  none  would  be  so  faithful  in  making  the 
report  of  what  was  now  to  happen. 

As  she  ended  these  words  some  one  knocked  roughly  on 
the  door.  Her  women,  knowing  it  was  the  hour  they  were 
coming  to  fetch  her,  wanted  to  make  resistance ;  but  she  said 
to  them :  "  My  friends,  it  will  do  no  good  ;  open  the  door." 

First  there  entered  a  man  with  a  white  stick  in  his  hand, 
who,  without  addressing  any  one,  said  twice  over  as  he  ad- 
vanced :  "  I  have  come  —  I  have  come."  The  queen,  not 
doubting  that  he  announced  to  her  the  moment  of  execu- 
tion, took  a  little  ivory  cross  in  her  hand. 

Next  came  the  above-named  commissioners ;  and  when 
they  had  entered,  the  queen  said  to  them :  "  Well,  messieurs, 
you  have  come  to  fetch  me.  I  am  ready  and  well  resolved 
to  die  ;  and  I  think  the  queen,  my  good  sister,  does  much 
for  me ;  and  you  likewise  who  are  seeking  me.  Let  us  go." 
They,  seeing  such  firmness  accompanied  by  so  extreme  a 
beauty  and  great  gentleness,  were  much  astonished,  for  never 
had  she  seemed  more  beautiful,  having  a  colour  in  her 
cheeks  which  embellished  her. 

Thus  Boccaccio  wrote  of  Sophonisba  in  her  adversity,  after 
the  taking  of  her  husband  and  the  town,  speaking  to  Massi- 
nissa  :  "  You  would  have  said,"  he  relates,  "  that  her  misfor- 
time  made  her  more  beauteous  ;  it  assisted  the  sweetness  of 
her  face  and  made  it  more  agreeable  and  desirable." 

The  commissioners  were  greatly  moved  to  some  compas- 
sion. Still,  as  she  left  the  room  they  would  not  let  her 
women  follow  her,  fearing  that  by  their  lamentations,  sighs, 
and  outcries  they  would  disturb  the  execution.  But  the 
queen  said  to  them :  "  What,  gentlemen !  would  you  treat 
me  with  such  rigour  as  not  to  allow  my  women  to  accom- 


110  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

pany  me  to  death  ?  Grant  me  at  least  this  favour."  "W^iich 
they  did,  on  her  pledging  her  word  she  would  impose  silence 
upon  them  when  the  time  came  to  admit  tliem. 

The  place  of  execution  was  in  the  hall,  where  they  had 
raised  a  broad  scaffold,  about  twelve  feet  square  and  two 
high,  covered  with  a  shabby  black  cloth. 

She  entered  this  hall  without  any  change  of  countenance 
but  with  majesty  and  gi-ace,  as  though  she  were  entering  a 
ballroom,  where  in  other  days  she  had  so  excellently  shone. 

As  she  neared  the  scaffold  she  called  to  her  mattre  d'hotel 
and  said,  "  Help  me  to  mount ;  it  is  the  last  service  I  shall 
receive  from  you ; "  and  she  repeated  to  him  what  she  had 
already  told  him  in  her  chamber  he  was  to  tell  her  sou. 
Then,  being  on  the  scaffold,  she  asked  for  her  almoner,  beg- 
ging the  officers  who  were  there  to  permit  him  to  come  to 
her,  which  they  flatly  refused,  —  the  Earl  of  Kent  saying  to 
her  that  he  pitied  her  greatly  for  thus  clinging  to  super- 
stitions of  a  past  age,  and  that  she  ought  to  bear  the  cross  of 
Christ  in  her  heart  and  not  in  her  hand.  To  which  she  made 
answer  that  it  w^as  difficult  to  bear  so  beautiful  an  image  in 
the  hand  without  the  heart  being  touched  bv  emotion  and 
memory  ;  and  that  the  most  becoming  thing  in  a  Christian 
person  was  to  carry  a  real  sign  of  the  redemption  to  the 
death  before  her.  Then,  seeing  that  she  could  not  have  her 
almoner,  she  asked  that  her  women  might  come  as  they  had 
promised  her ;  which  was  done.  One  of  them,  on  entering 
the  hall,  seeing  her  mistress  on  the  scaffold  among  her  execu- 
tioners, could  not  keep  from  crying  out  and  moaning  and 
losing  her  control;  but  the  queen  instantly  laying  her  finger 
on  her  lips,  she  restrained  herself. 

Her  Majesty  then  began  to  make  her  protestations,  namely: 
that  never  had  she  plotted  against  the  State,  nor  asainst  the 
life  of  the  queen,  her  good  sister,  —  except  in  trying  to  regain 


MARIE  STUART.  Ill 

her  liberty,  as  all  captives  may.  But  she  saw  plainly  that 
the  cause  of  her  death  was  religion,  and  she  esteemed  herself 
very  happy  to  finish  her  life  for  that  cause.  She  begged 
the  queen,  her  good  sister,  to  have  pity  upon  her  poor  ser- 
vants whom  she  held  captive,  because  of  the  affection  they 
had  shown  in  seeking  the  liberty  of  their  mistress,  inasmuch 
as  she  was  now  to  die  for  all. 

They  then  brought  to  her  a  minister  to  exhort  her  [the 
Dean  of  Peterborough],  but  she  said  to  him  in  English, 
"  Ah  I  my  friend,  give  yourself  patience ; "  declaring  that  she 
would  not  hold  converse  with  him  nor  hear  any  talk  of  his 
sect,  for  she  had  prepared  herself  to  die  without  counsel,  and 
that  persons  like  him  could  not  give  her  consolation  or  con- 
tentment of  mind. 

Notwithstanding  this,  seeing  that  he  continued  his  prayers 
in  his  jargon,  she  never  ceased  to  say  her  own  in  Latin, 
raising  her  voice  above  that  of  the  minister.  After  which 
she  said  again  that  she  esteemed  herself  very  happy  to  shed 
the  last  drop  of  her  blood  for  her  religion,  rather  than  live 
longer  and  wait  till  nature  had  completed  the  full  course  of 
her  life ;  and  that  she  hoped  in  Him  whose  cross  she  held  in 
her  hand,  before  whose  feet  she  was  prostrate,  that  this  tem- 
poral death,  borne  for  Him,  would  be  for  her  the  passage,  the 
entrance  to,  and  the  beginning  of  life  eternal  with  the  angels 
and  the  blessed,  who  would  receive  her  blood  and  present  it 
before  God,  in  abolition  of  her  sins  ;  and  them  she  prayed 
to  be  her  intercessors  for  the  obtaining  of  pardon  and  mercy. 

Such  were  her  prayers,  being  on  her  knees  on  the  scaffold, 
which  she  made  with  a  fervent  heart ;  adding  others  for  the 
pope,  the  kings  of  France,  and  even  for  the  Queen  of  England, 
praying  God  to  illuminate  her  with  his  Holy  Spirit ;  piaying 
also  for  her  son  and  for  tlie  islands  of  Britain  and  Scotland 
that  they  might  be  converted. 


112  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

That  done,  she  called  her  women  to  help  her  to  remove 
her  black  veil,  her  headdress,  and  other  ornaments ;  and  as 
the  executioner  tried  to  touch  her  she  said,  "  Ah  !  my  friend, 
do  not  touch  me  ! "  But  she  could  not  prevent  his  doing  so, 
for  after  they  had  lowered  her  robe  to  the  waist,  that  villain 
pulled  her  roughly  by  the  arm  and  took  off  her  doublet 
[pourpoinf]  and  the  body  of  her  petticoat  [corps  de  cotte]  with 
its  low  collar,  so  that  her  neck  and  her  beautiful  bosom,  more 
white  than  alabaster,  were  bare  and  uncovered. 

She  arranged  herself  as  quickly  as  she  could,  saying  she 
was  not  accustomed  to  strip  before  others,  especially  so  large 
a  company  (it  is  said  there  were  four  or  five  hundred  persons 
present),  nor  to  employ  the  services  of  such  a  valet. 

The  executioner  then  knelt  down  and  asked  her  pardon ; 
on  which  she  said  that  she  pardoned  him,  and  all  who  were 
the  authors  of  her  death  with  as  much  good-will  as  she 
prayed  that  God  would  show  in  forgiving  her  sins. 

Then  she  told  her  woman  to  whom  she  had  given  the 
handkerchief  to  bring  it  to  her. 

She  wore  a  cross  of  gold,  in  which  was  a  piece  of  the  true 
cross,  with  the  image  of  Our  Saviour  upon  it ;  this  she  wished 
to  give  to  one  of  her  ladies,  but  the  executioner  prevented 
her,  although  Her  Majesty  begged  him,  saying  that  the  lady 
would  pay  him  three  times  its  value. 

Then,  all  being  ready,  she  kissed  her  ladies,  and  bade  them 
retire  with  her  benediction,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross  upon 
them.  And  seeing  that  one  of  them  could  not  re?^ train  her 
sobs  she  imposed  silence,  saying  she  was  bound  by  a  promise 
that  they  would  cause  no  trouble  by  their  tears  and  moans ; 
and  she  commanded  them  to  withdraw  quietly,  and  pray  to 
God  for  her,  and  bear  faithful  testimony  to  her  death  in  the 
ancient  and  sacred  Catholic  religion. 

One    of   the  women  having  bandaged  her  eyes  with  the 


MARIE  STUART.  113 

handkerchief,  she  threw  herself  instantly  on  her  knees  with 
great  courage  and  without  the  slightest  demonstration  or  sign 
that  she  feared  death. 

Her  firmness  was  such  that  all  present,  even  her  enemies, 
were  moved ;  there  were  not  four  persons  present  who  could 
keep  from  weeping  ;  they  thought  the  sight  amazing,  and 
condemned  themselves  in  their  consciences  for  such  injustice. 

And  because  the  minister  of  Satan  importuned  her,  trying 
to  kill  her  soul  as  well  as  her  body,  and  troubling  her  prayers, 
she  raised  her  voice  to  surmount  his,  and  said  in  Latin  the 
psalm  :  In  te,  Domine,  speravi  ;  non  confundar  in  cctermtm  ; 
which  she  recited  throughout.  Having  ended  it,  she  laid  her 
head  upon  the  block,  and,  as  she  repeated  once  more  the 
words.  In  manus  tuas,  Domine,  commendo  spiritum  meum, 
the  executioner  struck  her  a  strong  blow  with  the  axe,  that 
drove  her  headgear  into  her  head,  which  did  not  fall  until  the 
third  blow,  —  to  make  her  martyrdom  the  greater  and  more 
glorious,  though  it  is  not  the  pain  but  the  cause  that  makes 
the  martyr. 

This  done,  he  took  the  head  in  his  hand,  and  showing  it  to 
all  present  said :  "  God  save  the  queen,  Elizabeth  !  Thus 
perish  the  enemies  of  the  gospel !  "  So  saying,  he  uncoifed 
her  in  derision  to  show  her  hair,  now  white ;  which,  however, 
she  had  never  shrunk  from  showing,  twisting  and  curling  it 
as  when  her  hair  was  beautiful,  so  fair  and  golden ;  for  it  was 
not  age  had  changed  it  at  thirty-five  years  old  (being  now 
but  forty)  ;  it  was  the  griefs,  the  woes,  the  sadness  she  had 
borne  in  her  kmgdom  and  in  her  prison. 

This  hapless  tragedy  ended,  her  poor  ladies,  anxious  for 
the  honour  of  their  mistress,  addressed  themselves  to  Paulet, 
her  jailer,  begging  him  that  the  executioner  should  not  touch 
the  body,  but  that  they  might  be  allowed  to  disrobe  it  after 
all  the  spectators  had  withdrawn,  so  that  no  indignity  might 


114  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

be  done  to  it,  promising  to  return  all  the  clothing,  and  what- 
ever else  he  might  ask  or  claim ;  but  that  cursed  man  sent 
them  roughly  away  and  ordered  them  to  leave  the  hall. 

Then  the  executioner  unclothed  her  and  handled  her  at  his 
discretion,  and  when  he  had  done  what  he  wished  the  body 
was  carried  to  a  chamber  adjoining  that  of  her  serving-men, 
and  carefully  locked  in,  for  fear  they  should  enter  and  en- 
deavour to  perform  any  good  and  pious  office.  And  to  their 
grief  and  distress  was  added  this :  that  they  could  see  her 
through  a  hole,  half  covered  by  a  piece  of  green  drugget  torn 
from  her  Ijilliard  table.  What  brutal  indifference  !  What 
animosity  and  indignity !  —  not  even  to  have  bought  her  a 
black  cloth  a  little  more  worthy  of  her! 

The  poor  body  was  left  there  loug  in  that  state  until  it  be- 
gan to  corrupt  so  that  they  were  forced  to  salt  and  embalm 
it,  —  but  slightly,  to  save  cost ;  after  which  they  put  it  in  a 
leaden  coffin,  where  it  was  kept  for  seven  months  and  then 
carried  to  profane  ground  around  the  temple  of  Petersbrouch 
[Peterborough  Cathedral].  True  it  is  that  this  church  is  dedi- 
cated to  the  name  of  Saint  Peter,  and  that  Queen  Catherine 
of  Spain  is  buried  there  as  a  Catholic ;  but  the  place  is  now 
profane,  as  are  all  the  churches  in  England  in  these  days. 

There  are  some  who  have  said  and  written,  even  the  Eng- 
lish who  have  made  a  book  on  this  death  and  its  causes,  that 
tlie  spoils  of  the  late  queen  were  taken  from  the  executioner 
by  paying  him  the  value  in  money  of  her  clothes  and  her 
royal  ornaments.  The  cloth  with  which  the  scaffold  was 
covered,  even  the  boards  of  it  were  partly  burned  and  partly 
washed,  for  fear  that  in  times  to  come  they  might  serve 
superstition ;  that  is  to  say,  for  fear  that  any  careful  Catholic 
might  some  day  buy  and  preserve  them  with  respect,  honour, 
and  reverence  (a  fear  which  may  possibly  serve  as  a  prophecy 
and  augury),  as  the  ancient  Fathers  had  a  practice  of  keep- 


MARIE  STUART.  115 

ing  relics  and  of  taking  care  with  devotion  of  the  monuments 
of  martyrs.  In  these  days  heretics  do  nothing  of  the  kind. 
Quia  omnia  quce  martyt'um  erant,  cremabant,  as  Eusebius 
says,  et  cineres  in  Mhodanum  s^argebant,  ut  cum  corporibus 
interiret  eorum  quoque  7nemoria.  Nevertheless,  the  memory 
of  this  queen,  in  spite  of  all  things,  will  live  forever  in  glory 
and  in  triumph. 

Here,  then,  is  the  tale  of  her  death,  which  I  hold  from  the 
report  of  two  damoiselles  there  present,  very  honourable 
certainly,  very  faithful  to  their  mistress,  and  obedient  to  her 
commands  in  thus  bearing  testimony  to  her  firmness  and  to 
her  religion.  They  returned  to  France  after  losing  her,  for 
they  were  French ;  one  was  a  daughter  of  Mme.  de  Eard, 
whom  I  knew  in  France  as  one  of  the  ladies  of  the  late 
queen.  I  think  that  these  two  honourable  dpmoiselles 
would  have  caused  the  most  barbarous  of  men  to  weep  at 
hearing  so  piteous  a  tale ;  which  they  made  the  more 
lamentable  by  tears,  and  by  their  tender,  doleful,  and  noble 
language. 

I  also  learned  much  from  a  book  which  has  been  pub- 
lished, entitled  "  The  Martyrdom  of  the  Queen  of  Scotland, 
Dowager  of  France."  Alas !  that  being  our  queen  did  her 
no  service.  It  seems  to  me  that  being  such  they  ought 
to  have  feared  our  vengeance  for  putting  her  to  death; 
and  tliey  would  have  thought  a  hundred  times  before  they 
came  to  it,  if  our  king  had  chosen  to  take  the  mitiative. 
But,  because  he  hated  the  Messieurs  de  Guise,  his  cousins, 
he  took  no  pains  except  as  formal  duty.  Alas !  what  could 
that  poor  innocent  do  ?     This  is  what  many  asked. 

Others  say  that  he  made  many  formal  appeals.  It  is  true 
that  he  sent  to  the  Queen  of  England  M.  de  Bellievre,  one 
of  the  greatest  and  wisest  senators  of  France  and  the  ablest, 
who  did  not  fail  to  otl'er  all  his  arguments,  with  the  king's 


116  THE   BOOK   OF  THE   LADIES. 

prayers  and  threats,  and  do  all  else  that  he  could;  and 
among  other  things  he  declared  that  it  did  not  belong  to 
one  king  or  sovereign  to  put  to  death  another  king  or 
sovereign,  over  whom  he  had  no  power  either  from  God  or 
man. 

I  have  never  known  a  generous  person  who  did  not  say 
that  the  Queen  of  England  w^ould  have  won  immortal  glory 
had  she  used  mercy  to  the  Scottish  queen  ;  and  also  she 
would  be  exempt  from  the  risk  of  vengeance,  however  tardy, 
which  awaits  her  for  the  shedding  of  innocent  blood  that 
cries  aloud  for  it.  It  is  said  that  the  English  queen  was 
well  advised  of  this ;  but  not  only  did  she  pass  over  the 
advice  of  many  of  her  kingdom,  but  also  that  of  many 
great  Protestant  princes  and  lords  both  in  France  and 
Germany,  —  such  as  the  Prince  de  Conde  and  Casimir,  since 
dead,  and  the  Prince  of  Orange  and  others,  who  had  sub- 
scribed to  this  violent  death  while  not  expecting  it,  but 
afterwards  felt  their  conscience  burdened,  inasmuch  as  it 
did  not  concern  them  and  brought  them  no  advantage,  and 
they  did  it  only  to  please  the  queen ;  but,  in  truth,  it  did 
them  inestimable  detriment. 

They  say,  too,  that  Queen  Elizabeth,  when  she  sent  to 
notify  that  poor  Queen  Marie  of  this  melancholy  sentence, 
assured  her  that  it  was  done  with  great  and  sad  regret  on 
her  part,  under  constraint  of  Parhament  whicli  urgi/d  it  on 
her.  To  which  Queen  Marie  answered:  "She  has  much 
more  power  than  that  to  make  them  ol)edient  to  her  will 
when  it  pleases  her ;  for  she  is  the  princess,  or  more  truly 
the  prince,  who  has  made  herself  tlie  most  feared  and 
reverenced." 

Xow,  I  rely  on  the  truth  of  all  things,  whicli  time  will 
reveal.  Queen  Marie  will  live  glorious  in  this  world  and  in 
the  other ;  and  the  time  will  come  in  a  few  years  when  some 


MARIE   STUART.  117 

good  pope  will  canonize  her  in  memory  of  the  martyrdom 
she  suffered  for  the  honour  of  God  and  of  his  Law. 

It  is  not  to  be  doubted  that  if  that  great,  valiant,  and 
generous  prince,  the  late  M.  de  Guise,  the  last  [Henri,  le 
Balafr^,  assassinated  at  Blois],  was  not  dead,  vengeance  for 
so  noble  a  queen  and  cousin  thus  murdered  would  not  still 
be  unborn.  I  have  said  enough  on  so  pitiful  a  subject,  which 
I  end  thus :  — 

This  queen,  of  a  beauty  so  incomparable. 
Was,  with  too  great  injustice,  put  to  death : 
To  sustain  that  heart  of  faith  inviolable 
Can  it  be  there  are  none  to  avenge  the  wrong  ? 

One  there  is  who  has  written  her  epitaph  in  Latin  verses, 
the  substance  of  which  is  as  follows :  "  Nature  had  produced 
this  queen  to  be  seen  of  all  the  world :  with  great  admira- 
tion was  she  seen  for  her  beauty  and  virtues  so  long  as  she 
lived :  but  England,  envious,  placed  her  on  a  scaffold  to  be 
seen  in  derision  :  yet  was  well  deceived ;  for  the  sight  turned 
praise  and  admiration  to  her,  and  glory  and  thanksgiving  to 
God." 

I  must,  before  I  finish,  say  a  word  here  in  reply  to  those 
whom  I  have  heard  speak  ill  of  her  for  the  death  of  Chastel- 
lard,  whom  the  queen  condemned  to  death  in  Scotland,  —  lay- 
ing upon  her  that  she  had  justly  suffered  for  making  others 
suffer.  L^pon  that  count  there  is  no  justice,  and  it  should 
never  have  been  made.  Those  who  know  the  history  will 
never  blame  our  queen  ;  and,  for  that  reason,  I  shall  here 
relate  it  for  her  justification. 

Chastellard  was  a  gentleman  of  Dauphin^,  of  good  family 
and  condition,  for  he  was  great-nephew  on  his  mother's  side 
of  that  brave  M.  de  Bayard,  whom  they  say  he  resembled  in 
figure,  which  in  him  was  medium,  very  beautiful  and  slender, 


118  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

as  they  say  M.  de  Bayard  had  also.  He  was  very  adroit  at 
arms,  and  inclined  in  all  ways  to  honourable  exercises,  such 
as  firing  at  a  mark,  playing  at  tennis,  leaping,  and  dancing. 
In  short,  he  was  a  most  accomplished  gentleman ;  and 
as  for  his  soul,  it  was  also  very  noble ;  he  spoke  well,  and 
"wrote  of  the  best,  even  in  rhyme,  as  well  as  any  gentle- 
man in  France,  using  a  most  sweet  and  lovely  poesy,  like  a 
knight. 

He  followed  M.  d'Amville,  so-called  then,  now  M.  le 
Conndtable ;  but  when  we  v.'ere  with  M.  le  Grand  Prieur, 
of  the  house  of  Lorraine,  who  conducted  the  queen  [to 
Scotland]  the  said  Chastellard  was  with  us,  and,  in  this 
company  became  known  to  the  queen  for  his  charming 
actions,  above  all  for  his  rhymes  ;  among  which  he  made 
some  to  please  her  in  translation  from  Italian  (which  he 
spoke  and  knew  well),  beginning,  Che  giova  posseder  cittci  e 
rcrjni ;  which  is  a  very  well  made  sonnet,  the  substance  of 
which  is  as  follows :  "  AVhat  serves  her  to  possess  so  many 
kingdoms,  cities,  towns,  and  provinces,  to  command  so  many 
peoples,  and  be  respected,  feared,  admired  of  all,  if  still  to 
sleep  a  widow,  lone  and  cold  as  ice  ? " 

He  made  also  other  rhymes,  most  beautiful,  which  I  have 
seen  written  by  his  hand,  for  they  never  were  imprinted, 
that  I  know. 

The  queen,  therefore,  who  loved  letters,  and  principally 
poems,  for  sometimes  she  made  dainty  ones  herself,  was 
pleased  in  seeing  those  of  Chastellard,  and  even  made  re- 
sponse, and,  for  that  reason,  gave  him  good  cheer  and  enter- 
tained him  often.  But  he,  in  secrecy,  was  kindled  by  a 
flame  too  high,  the  which  its  object  could  not  hinder,  for 
who  can  shield  herself  from  love  ?  In  times  gone  by  the 
most  chaste  goddesses  and  dames  were  loved,  and  still  are 
loved ;   indeed  we  love  their  marble  statues ;   but  for  that 


MARIE   STUART.  119 

no  lady  has  been  blamed  unless  she  yielded  to  it.  There- 
fore, kindle  who  will  these  sacred  fires ! 

Chastellard  returned  with  all  our  troop  to  France,  much 
grieved  and  desperate  in  leaving  so  beautiful  an  object  of  his 
love.  After  one  year  the  civil  war  broke  out  in  France.  He, 
who  belonged  to  the  Eeligion  [Protestant],  struggled  within 
himself  which  side  to  take,  whether  to  go  to  Orleans  with 
the  others,  or  stay  with  M.  d'Amville,  and  make  war  against 
his  faith.  On  the  one  hand,  it  seemed  to  him  too  bitter  to 
go  against  his  conscience ;  on  the  other,  to  take  up  arms 
against  his  master  displeased  him  hugely ;  wherefore  he  re- 
solved to  fight  for  neither  the  one  nor  yet  the  other,  but  to 
banish  himself  and  go  to  Scotland,  let  fight  who  would, 
and  pass  the  time  away.  He  opened  this  project  to  M. 
d'Amville  and  told  him  his  resolution,  begging  him  to  write 
letters  in  his  favour  to  the  queen  ;  which  he  obtained :  then, 
taking  leave  of  one  and  all.  he  went ;  I  saw  him  go ;  he 
bade  me  adieu  and  told  me  in  part  his  resolution,  we  being 
friends. 

He  made  his  voyage,  which  ended  happily,  so  that,  having 
arrived  in  Scotland  and  discoursing  of  his  intentions  to  the 
queen,  she  received  him  kindly  and  assured  him  he  was  wel- 
come. But  he,  abusing  such  good  cheer  and  seeking  to 
attack  the  sun,  perished  like  Phaeton;  for,  driven  by  love 
and  passion,  he  was  presumptuous  enough  to  hide  beneath 
the  bed  of  her  Majesty,  where  he  was  discovered  when  she 
retired.  The  queen,  not  wishing  to  make  a  scandal,  par- 
doned him ;  availing  herself  of  that  good  counsel  which  the 
lady  of  honour  gives  to  her  mistress  in  the  "  Xovels  of  the 
Queen  of  iSTavarre,"  when  a  seigneur  of  her  brother's  Court, 
slipping  through  a  trap-door  made  by  him  in  the  alcove, 
seeking  to  win  her,  brought  nothing  back  but  shame  and 
scratches :  she  wishing  to  punish  his  temerity  and  complain 


120  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

of  him  to  her  brother,  the  lady  of  honour  counselled  her 
that,  since  the  seigneur  had  won  nought  but  shame  and 
scratches,  it  was  for  her  honour  as  a  lady  of  such  mark  not 
to  be  talked  of ;  for  the  more  it  was  contended  over,  the 
more  it  would  go  to  the  nose  of  the  world  and  the  mouth  of 
gossips. 

Our  Queen  of  Scotland,  being  wise  and  prudent;  passed 
this  scandal  by ;  but  the  said  Chastellard,  not  content  and 
more  than  ever  mad  with  love,  returned  for  the  second 
time,  forgetting  both  his  former  crime  and  pardon.  Then 
the  queen,  for  her  honour,  and  not  to  give  occasion  to  her 
women  to  think  evil,  and  also  to  her  people  if  it  w^ere  known, 
lost  patience  and  gave  him  up  to  justice,  which  condemned 
him  quickly  to  be  beheaded,  in  view  of  the  crime  of  such  an 
act.  The  day  having  come,  before  he  died  he  had  in  his 
hand  the  hymns  of  M.  de  Eonsard ;  and,  for  his  eternal 
consolation,  he  read  from  end  to  end  the  Hymn  of  Death 
(which  is  well  done,  and  proper  not  to  make  death  abhorrent), 
taking  no  help  of  other  spiritual  book,  nor  of  minister  or 
confessor. 

Having  ended  that  reading  wholly,  he  turned  to  the  spot 
where  he  thought  the  queen  must  be,  and  cried  in  a  loud 
voice :  "Adieu,  most  beautiful,  most  cruel  princess  in  all  the 
world ! "  then,  firmly  stretching  his  neck  to  the  executioner, 
he  let  himself  be  killed  very  easily. 

Some  have  wished  to  discuss  why  it  was  that  he  called 
her  cruel ;  whether  because  she  had  no  pity  on  his  love,  or  on 
his  life.  But  what  should  she  have  done  ?  If,  after  her  first 
pardon  she  had  granted  him  a  second,  she  would  on  all  sides 
have  been  slandered ;  to  save  her  honour  it  was  needful  that 
the  law  should  take  its  course.  That  is  the  end  of  this 
history. 


MARIE  STUART.  121 

"  Well,  they  may  say  what  they  will,  many  a  true  heart 
will  be  sad  for  Mary  Stuart,  e'en  if  all  be  true  men  say 
of  her."  That  speech,  which  Walter  Scott  puts  into  the 
mouth  of  one  of  the  personages  in  his  novel  of  "  The  Abbot " 
at  the  moment  when  he  is  preparing  the  reader  for  an  intro- 
duction to  the  beautiful  queen,  remains  the  last  word  of 
posterity  as  it  was  of  contemporaries,  —  the  conclusion  of 
history  as  of  poesy. 

Elizabeth  living  triumphed,  and  her  policy  after  her  lives 
and  triumphs  still,  so  that  Protestantism  and  the  British 
empire  are  one  and  the  same  thing.  Marie  Stuart  suc- 
cumbed, in  her  person  and  in  that  of  her  descendants ; 
Charles  I.  under  the  axe,  James  II.  in  exile,  each  continued 
and  added  to  his  heritage  of  faults,  imprudences,  and 
calamities ;  the  whole  race  of  the  Stuarts  was  cut  off,  and 
seems  to  have  deserved  it.  But,  vanquished  in  the  order 
of  things  and  under  the  empire  of  fact,  and  even  under  that 
of  inexorable  reason,  the  beautiful  queen  has  regained  all 
in  the  world  of  imagination  and  of  pity.  She  has  found, 
from  century  to  century,  knights,  lovers,  and  avengers.  A 
few  years  ago,  a  Russian  of  distinction,  Prince  Alexander 
Labanoff,  began,  with  incomparable  zeal,  a  search  through 
the  archives,  the  collections,  the  libraries  of  Europe,  for 
documents  emanating  directly  from  Marie  Stuart,  the  most 
insignificant  as  well  as  the  most  important  of  her  letters,  in 
order  to  connect  them  and  so  make  a  nucleus  of  history, 
and  also  an  authentic  shrine,  not  doubting  that  interest, 
serious  and  tender  interest,  would  rise,  more  powerful  still, 
from  the  bosom  of  truth  itself.  On  the  appearance  of  this 
collection  of  Prince  Labanoff,  M.  Mignet  produced,  from 
1847  to  1850,  a  series  of  articles  in  the  "  Journal  des  Savants," 
in  which,  not  content  with  appreciating  the  prince's  docu- 
ments, he  presented  from  himself  new  documents,  hitherto 


122  THE   BOOK   OF   THE   LADIES. 

unpublished  and  affording  new  ligMs.  Since  then,  leaving 
the  form  of  criticism  and  dissertation,  M.  Mignard  has  taken 
this  fine  subject  as  a  whole,  and  has  written  a  complete 
narrative  upon  it,  grave,  compact,  interesting,  and  definitive, 
which  he  is  now  publishing  [1851]. 

In  the  meantime,  about  a  year  ago,  there  appeared  a 
"  History  of  Marie  Stuart "  by  M.  Dargaud,  a  writer  of  talent, 
whose  book  has  been  much  praised  and  much  read.  M. 
Dargaud  made,  in  his  own  way,  various  researches  about  the 
heroine  of  his  choice ;  he  went  expressly  to  England  and 
Scotland,  and  visited  as  a  pilgrim  all  the  places  and  scenes 
of  Marie  Stuart's  sojourns  and  captivities.  While  drawing 
abundantly  from  preceding  writers,  M,  Dargaud  does  them 
justice  with  effusion  and  cordiality  ;  he  sheds  through  every 
line  of  his  history  the  sentiment  of  exalted  pity  and  poesy 
inspired  within  him  by  the  memory  of  that  royal  and 
Catholic  victim  ;  he  deserves  the  fine  letter  which  Mme.  Sand 
wrote  him  from  Xohant,  April  10, 1851,  in  which  she  congratu- 
lates him,  almost  without  criticism,  and  speaks  of  Marie  Stuart 
with  charm  and  eloquence.  If  I  do  not  dwell  at  greater 
length  upon  the  work  of  M.  Dargaud,  it  is,  I  must  avow, 
becau-e  I  am  not  of  that  too  emotional  school  which  softens 
and  enervates  history.  I  think  that  history  should  not  neces- 
sarily be  dull  and  v/earisome,  but  still  less  do  I  think  it 
sliould  be  impassioned,  sentimental,  and  as  if  magnetic. 
Without  wishing  to  depreciate  the  qualities  of  M.  Dargaud, 
which  are  too  much  in  the  taste  of  the  day  not  to  be  their 
own  recommendation,  I  shall  follow  in  preference  a  more 
severe  historian,  whose  judgment  and  whose  method  of 
procedure  inspire  me  with  confidence. 

]\rarie  Stuart,  born  December  8,  1542,  six  days  before  the 
death  of  her  father,  who  was  then  combating,  like  all  the 
kings   his    predecessors,  a   turbulent   nobility,  began  as  an 


MARIE  STUART.  123 

orphan  her  fickle  and  unfortunate  destiny.  Storms  assailed 
her  in  her  cradle,  — 

"  As  if,  e'en  then,  inhuman  Fortune 
Would  suckle  me  with  sadness  and  with  pain," 

as  an  old  poet,  in  I  know  not  what  tragedy,  has  made  her 
say.  Crowned  at  the  age  of  nine  months,  disputed  already 
in  marriage  between  the  French  and  English  parties,  eacli 
desiring  to  prevail  in  Scotland,  she  was  early,  through  the 
influence  of  her  mother,  Marie  de  Guise  (sister  of  the  illus- 
trious Guises),  bestowed  upon  the  Dauphin  of  France,  the  son 
of  King  Henri  11.  August  13, 1548,  Marie  Stuart,  then  rather 
less  than  six  years  old,  landed  at  Brest.  Betrothed  to  the 
young  dauphin,  who,  on  his  father's  death  became  Frangois  XL, 
she  was  brought  up  among  the  children  of  Henri  II,  and 
Catherine  de'  Medici,  and  remained  in  France,  first  as  dau- 
phine,  then  as  queen,  until  the  premature  death  of  her 
husband.  She  lived  there  in  every  respect  as  a  French 
princess.  These  twelve  or  thirteen  years  in  France  were 
her  joy  and  her  charm,  and  the  source  of  her  ruin. 

She  grew  up  in  the  bosom  of  the  most  polished,  most 
learned,  most  gallant  Court  of  those  times,  shining  there  in 
her  early  bloom  like  a  rare  and  most  admired  marvel,  know- 
ing music  and  all  the  arts  (divince  Palladis  artcs),  learning 
the  languages  of  antiquity,  speaking  themes  in  Latin,  supe- 
rior in  French  rhetoric,  enjoying  an  intercourse  with  poets, 
and  being  herself  their  rival  with  her  poems.  Scotland, 
during  all  this  time,  seemed  to  her  a  barbaric  and  savage 
land,  which  she  earnestly  hoped  never  to  see  again,  or,  at 
any  rate,  never  to  inhabit.  Trained  to  a  policy  wholly  of 
the  Court  and  wholly  personal,  they  made  her  sign  at  Fon- 
tainebleau  at  the  time  of  her  marriage  (1558)  a  secret  deed 
of  gift  of  the  kingdom  of  Scotland  to  the  kings  of  France, 
at  the  same  time  that  she  publicly  gave  adherence  to  the 


124  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

conditions  which  the  commissioners  from  Scotland  had 
attached  to  the  marriage,  conditions  under  which  she  pledged 
herself  to  maintain  the  integrity,  the  laws,  and  the  liberties 
of  her  native  land.  It  was  at  this  very  moment  that  she 
secretly  made  gift  to  the  kings  of  France  of  her  whole  king- 
dom by  an  act  of  her  own  good- will  and  power.  The  Court 
of  France  prompted  her  to  that  imprudent  treachery  at  the 
age  of  sixteen.  Another  very  impolitic  imprudence,  which 
proclaimed  itself  more  openly,  was  committed  when  Henri  XL, 
on  the  death  of  Mary  Tudor,  made  Marie  Stuart,  the  dauphine, 
bear  the  arms  of  England  beside  those  of  Scotland,  thus 
presenting  her  thenceforth  as  a  declared  rival  and  com- 
petitor of  Elizabeth. 

When  Marie  Stuart  suddenly  lost  her  husband  (December 
5,  1560),  and  it  was  decided  that  she,  a  widow  at  eighteen, 
should,  instead  of  remaining  in  her  dowry  of  Touraine,  re- 
turn to  her  kingdom  of  Scotland  to  bring  order  to  the  civil 
troubles  there  existing,  universal  mourning  took  place  in 
the  world  of  young  French  seigneurs,  noble  ladies,  and  poets. 
The  latter  consigned  their  regrets  to  many  poems  which  pict- 
ure Marie  Stuart  to  the  life  in  this  decisive  liour,  the  first 
really  sorrowful  hour  she  had  ever  known.  We  see  her 
refined,  gracious,  of  a  delicate,  fair  complexion,  the  form  and 
bust  of  queen  or  goddess,  —  L'Hopital  himself  had  said  of 
her,  after  his  fashion,  in  a  grave  epithalamium :  — 

*'  Adspectu  veneranda,  putes  ut  Numen  inesse  : 
Tantus  in  ore  decor,  majestas  regia  tanta  est !  "  — 

of  a  long  hand,  elegant  and  slender  'gracilis),  an  alabaster 
forehead  dazzling  beneath  the  crape,  and  with  golden  hair  — 
which  needs  a  brief  remark.  It  is  a  poet  (Eonsard)  who 
speaks  of  "  the  gold  of  lier  ringed  and  braided  hair,"  and 
poets,  as  we  know,  employ  their  words  a  little  vaguely. 
Mme.  Sand,  speaking  of  a  portrait  she  had  seen  as  a  child 


MARIE   STUART.  125 

in  the  English  Convent,  says,  without  hesitation,  "  Marie 
was  beautiful,  but  red-haired."  M.  Dargaud  speaks  of  an- 
other portrait,  "  in  which  a  sunray  lightens,"  he  says  rather 
oddly,  "  the  curls  of  her  living  and  electric  hair."  But 
Walter  Scott,  reputed  the  most  correct  of  historical  romance- 
writers,  in  describing  Marie  Stuart  a  prisoner  in  Lochleven 
Castle,  shows  us,  as  though  he  had  seen  them,  her  thick 
tresses  of  "  dark  brown,"  which  escaped  now  and  then  from 
her  coif.  Here  we  are  far  from  the  red  or  golden  tints,  and 
I  see  no  other  way  of  conciliating  these  differences  than  to  rest 
on  "  that  hair  so  beautiful,  so  blond  and  fair  "  [si  blonds  et  cen- 
dres'l  which  Brantome,  an  ocular  witness,  admired, — -hair 
that  captivity  whitened,  leaving  the  poor  queen  of  forty-six 
"  quite  bald "  in  the  hands  of  her  executioner,  as  I'Estoile 
relates.  But  at  nineteen,  the  moment  of  her  departure  from 
France,  the  young  widow  was  in  all  the  glory  of  her  beauty, 
except  for  a  brilliancy  of  colour,  which  she  lost  at  the  death 
of  her  first  husband,  giving  place  to  a  purer  whiteness. 

Withal  a  lively,  graceful,  and  sportive  mind,  and  French 
raillery,  an  ardent  soul,  capable  of  passion,  open  to  desire, 
a  heart  which  knew  not  how  to  draw  back  when  flame  or 
fancy  or  enchantment  stirred  it.  Such  was  the  queen,  ad- 
venturous and  poetical,  who  tore  herself  from  France  in 
tears,  sent  by  politic  uncles  to  recover  her  authority  amid 
the  roughest  and  most  savage  of  "  Frondes." 

Scotland,  since  IMarie  Stuart  left  it  as  a  child,  had  under- 
gone great  changes ;  the  principal  was  the  Eeformed  religion 
w^hich  had  taken  root  there  and  extended  itself  vigorously. 
The  great  reformer  Knox  preached  the  new  doctrine,  whicli 
found  in  Scotland  stern,  energetic  souls  ready  made  to  receive 
it.  The  old  strug;Q;le  of  the  lords  and  barons  asjainst  the 
kings  was  complicated  and  redoubled  now  by  that  of  cities 
and  people  against  the  brilliant  beliefs  of  the  Court  and  the 


126  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

Catholic  hierarchy.  The  birth  of  modern  society,  of  civil 
equality,  of  respect  for  the  rights  of  all  was  painfully  work- 
ing itself  out  through  barbaric  scenes,  and  by  means  of 
fanaticism  itself.  Alone  and  without  counsel,  contending 
with  the  lords  and  the  nobility  as  her  ancestors  had  done, 
Marie  Stuart,  quick,  impulsive,  subject  to  predilections  and 
to  antipathies,  was  already  insufficient  for  the  work ;  what 
therefore  could  it  be  when  she  found  herself  face  to  face 
with  a  religious  party,  born  and  growing  during  recent  years, 
face  to  face  with  an  argumentative,  gloomy  party,  moral  and 
daring,  discussing  rationally,  Bible  in  hand,  the  right  of 
kings,  and  pushing  logic  even  into  prayer  ?  Coming  from 
a  literary  and  artificial  Court,  there  was  nothing  in  her  that 
could  comprehend  these  grand  and  voiceless  movements  of 
the  people,  either  to  retard  them  or  turn  them  to  her  own 
profit  by  adapting  herself  to  them.  "She  returned,"  says 
M.  Mignet,  "  full  of  regrets  and  disgust,  to  the  barren  moun- 
tains and  the  uncultured  inhabitants  of  Scotland.  ]\Iore 
lovable  than  able,  very  ardent  and  in  no  way  cautious,  she 
returned  with  a  grace  that  was  out  of  keeping  with  her  sur- 
roundings, a  dangerous  beauty,  a  keen  but  variable  intellect, 
a  generous  but  rash  soul,  a  taste  for  the  arts,  a  love  of  ad- 
venture, and  all  the  passions  of  a  woman  joined  to  the  exces- 
sive liberty  of  a  widow." 

And  to  complicate  the  peril  of  this  precarious  situation 
she  had  for  neighbour  in  England  a  rival  queen,  Elizabeth, 
whom  slie  had  first  offended  by  claiming  her  title,  and  next, 
and  no  less,  by  a  feminine  and  proclaimed  superiority  of 
beauty  and  grace,  —  a  rival  queen  capable,  energetic,  rigid, 
and  dissimulating,  representing  the  contrary  religious  opinion, 
and  surrounded  by  able  counsellors,  firm,  consistent,  and 
committed  to  the  same  cause.  The  seven  years  that  :\Iarie 
Stuart   spent   in    Scotland    after   her   return    from    Erance 


MARIE  STUART.  127 

(August  19,  1561)  to  her  imprisonment  (May  18, 1568)  are 
filled  with  all  the  blunders  and  all  the  faults  that  could  be 
committed  by  a  young  and  thoughtless  princess,  impulsive, 
unreflecting,  and  without  shrewdness  or  ability  except  in  the 
line  of  her  passion,  never  in  view  of  a  general  political  pur- 
pose. The  policy  of  Mme.  de  Longueville,  during  the 
Fronde,  seems  to  me  of  the  same  character. 

As  to  other  faults,  the  moral  faults  of  poor  Marie  Stuart, 
they  are  as  well  known  and  demonstrated  to-day  as  faults 
of  that  kind  can  well  be.  Mme.  Sand,  always  very  indul- 
gent, regards  as  the  three  black  spots  upon  her  life  the 
abandonment  of  Chastellard,  her  feigned  caresses  to  the 
hapless  Darnley,  and  her  forgetfulness  of  Bothwell. 

Chastellard,  as  we  know,  was  a  gentleman  of  Dauphin^ 
musician  and  poet,  in  the  train  of  the  servitors  and  adorers 
of  the  queen,  who  at  first  was  very  agreeable  to  her,  Chastel- 
lard was  one  of  the  troop  who  escorted  Marie  Stuart  to 
Scotland,  and  sometime  later,  urged  by  his  passion,  he 
returned  there.  But  not  knowing  how  to  restrain  himself, 
or  to  keep,  as  became  him,  to  poetic  passion  while  waiting 
to  inspire,  if  he  could,  a  real  one,  he  was  twice  discovered 
beneath  the  bed  of  the  queen ;  the  second  time  she  lost 
patience  and  turned  him  over  to  the  law.  Poor  Chastellard 
was  beheaded ;  he  died  reciting,  so  they  say,  a  hymn  of 
Eousard's,  and  crying  aloud :  "  0  cruel  Lady  ! "  After  so 
stern  an  act,  to  which  she  was  driven  in  fear  of  scandal  and 
to  put  her  honour  above  all  attainder  and  suspicion,  Marie 
Stuart  had,  it  would  seem,  but  one  course  to  pursue,  namely : 
to  remain  the  most  severe  and  most  virtuous  of  princesses. 

But  her  severity  for  Chastellard,  though  shown  for  effect, 
is  merely  a  peccadillo  in  comparison  with  her  conduct  to 
Darnley,  her  second  husband.  By  marrying  this  young- 
man  (July  29,  1565),  her  vassal,  but   of   the  race  of   the 


128  THE  BOOK  OF  THE    LADIES. 

Stuarts  and  her  own  family,  Marie  escaped  the  diverse 
political  combinations  which  were  striving  to  attract  her 
to  a  second  marriage;  and  it  would  have  been,  perhaps, 
a  sensible  thing  to  do,  if  she  had  not  done  it  as  an  act  of 
caprice  and  passion.  But  she  fell  in  love  with  Darnley  in 
a  single  day,  and  became  disgusted  in  the  next.  This  tall, 
weakly  youth,  timid  and  conceited  by  turns,  with  a  heart 
"  soft  as  wax,"  had  nothing  in  him  which  subjugates  a  woman 
and  makes  her  respect  him.  A  woman  such  as  Marie 
Stuart,  changeable,  ardent,  easily  swayed,  with  the  sentiment 
of  her  weakness  and  of  her  impulsiveness,  likes  to  find 
a  master  and  at  moments  a  tyrant  in  the  man  she  loves, 
whereas  she  soon  despises  her  slave  and  creature  when  he  is 
nought  but  that ;  she  much  prefers  an  arm  of  iron  to  an 
effeminate  hand. 

Less  than  six  months  after  her  marriage  Marie,  wholly  dis- 
gusted, consoled  herself  with  an  Italian,  David  Eiccio,  a  man 
thirty-two  years  of  age,  equally  well  fitted  for  business  or 
pleasure,  who  advised  her  and  served  her  as  secretary,  and 
was  gifted  with  a  musical  talent  well  suited  to  commend  him 
to  women  in  other  ways.  The  feeble  Darnley  confided  his 
jealousy  to  the  discontented  lords  and  gentlemen,  and 
they,  in  the  interests  of  their  faction,  prodded  his  vengeance 
and  offered  to  serve  it  with  their  sword.  ^Ministers  and 
Presbyterian  pastors  took  part  in  the  affair.  The  whole  was 
plotted  and  managed  with  perfect  unanimity  as  a  chastise- 
ment of  Heaven,  and,  what  is  more,  by  help  of  deeds  and 
formal  agreements  which  simulated  legality.  Tlie  queen  and 
her  favourite,  apparently  before  they  had  any  suspicions, 
were  taken  in  a  net.  David  Eiccio  was  seized  by  the  con- 
spirators while  supping  in  ^Marie's  cabinet  (March  9,  1566), 
Darnley  being  present,  and  from  there  he  was  dragged  into 
the  next  room  and  stabbed.     Marie,  at  this    date,  was    six 


MAEIE   STUART.  129 

months  pregnant  by  her  husband.  On  that  day,  outraged  in 
honour  and  embittered  in  feeling,  she  conceived  for  Darnley 
a  deeper  contempt  mingled  with  horror,  and  swore  to  avenge 
herself  on  the  murderers.  For  this  purpose  she  bided  her 
time,  she  dissimulated ;  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  con- 
trolled herself  and  restrained  her  actions.  She  became 
politic  —  as  the  nature  is  of  passionate  women  —  only  in 
the  interests  of  her  passion  and  her  vengeance. 

Here  is  the  gravest  and  the  most  in-eparable  incident  of 
her  life.  Even  after  we  have  fully  represented  to  ourselves 
what  the  average  morahty  of  the  sixteenth  century,  with  all 
the  treachery  and  atrocities  it  tolerated,  was,  we  are  scarcely 
prepared  for  this.  JNIarie  Stuart's  first  desire  was  to  revenge 
herself  on  the  lords  and  gentlemen  who  had  lent  their  dag- 
gers to  Darnley,  rather  than  on  her  weak  and  timid  husband. 
To  reach  her  end  she  reconciled  herself  with  the  latter  and 
detached  him  from  the  conspirators,  his  accomphces.  She 
forced  him  to  disavow  them,  thus  degrading  and  sinking  him 
in  his  own  estimation.  At  this  point  she  remained  as  long 
as  a  new  passion  was  not  added  to  her  supreme  contempt. 
Meantime  her  child  was  born  (June  19),  and  she  made 
Darnley  the  father  of  a  son  who  resembled  both  parents  on 
their  worst  sides,  the  future  James  I.  of  England,  that  soul 
of  a  casuist  in  a  king.  But  by  this  time  a  new  passion  was 
budding  in  the  open  heart  of  Marie  Stuart.  He  whom  she 
now  chose  had  neither  Darnley's  feebleness  nor  the  salon 
graces  of  a  Riccio ;  he  was  the  Earl  of  Bothwell,  a  man  of 
thirty,  ugly,  but  martial  in  aspect,  brave,  bold,  violent,  and 
capable  of  daring  all  things.  To  him  it  was  that  this  flexible 
and  tender  will  was  henceforth  to  cling  for  its  support. 
Marie  Stuart  has  found  her  master ;  and  him  she  will  obey 
in  all  things,  without  scruple,  without  remorse,  as  happens 
always  in  distracted  passion. 


130  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

But  how  rid  herself  of  a  husband  henceforth  odious  ? 
How  unite  herself  to  the  man  she  loves  and  whose  ambition 
is  not  of  a  kind  to  stop  half  way  ?  Here  again  we  need  — 
not  to  excuse,  but  to  explain  Marie  Stuart  —  we  need  to 
represent  to  our  minds  the  morality  of  that  day.  A  goodly 
number  of  the  same  lords  who  had  taken  part  in  Eiccio's 
murder,  and  who  were  leagued  together  by  deeds  and  docu- 
ments, offered  themselves  to  the  queen,  and,  for  the  purpose 
of  recovering  favour,  let  her  see  the  means  of  getting  rid  of  a 
husband  who  was  now  so  irksome.  She  answered  this  over- 
ture by  merely  speaking  of  a  divorce  and  the  difficulty  of 
obtaining  it.  But  these  men,  little  scrupulous,  said  to  her 
plainly,  by  the  mouth  of  Lethington,  the  ablest  and  most 
poHtic  of  them  all :  "  Madame,  give  yourself  no  anxiety  ;  we, 
the  leaders  of  the  nobility,  and  the  heads  of  your  Grace's 
Council,  will  find  a  way  to  deliver  you  from  him  without 
prejudice  to  your  son  ;  and  though  my  Lord  Murray,  here 
present  (the  illegitimate  brother  of  Marie  Stuart),  is  little 
less  scrupulous  as  a  Protestant  than  your  Grace  is  as  a  Papist, 
1  feel  sure  that  he  will  look  through  his  fingers,  see  us  act, 
and  say  nothing." 

The  word  was  spoken  ;  Marie  had  only  to  do  as  her  brother 
did,  "  look  tlirough  her  fingers,"  as  the  vulgar  saymg  was,  and 
let  things  go  on  without  taking  part  in  them.  She  did  take 
a  part  however ;  she  led  into  the  trap,  by  a  feigned  return  of 
tenderness,  the  unfortunate  Darnley,  then  convalescing  from 
the  small-pox.  She  removed  his  suspicions  without  much 
trouble,  and,  recovering  her  empire  over  him,  persuaded  him 
to  come  in  a  litter  from  Glasgow  to  Kirk-of-Pield,  at  the 
gates  of  Edinburgh,  where  there  was  a  species  of  parsonage, 
little  suitable  for  the  reception  of  a  king  and  queen,  but  very 
convenient  for  the  crime  now  to  be  committed. 

There  Darnley  perished,  strangled  with  his  page,  during 


MARIE  STUART.  131 

the  night  of  February  9,  1567.  The  house  was  blown  up  by 
means  of  a  barrel  of  gunpowder,  placed  there  to  give  the  idea 
of  an  accident.  During  this  time  Marie  had  gone  to  a  masked 
ball  at  Holyrood,  not  having  quitted  her  husband  until  that 
evening,  when  all  was  prepared  to  its  slightest  detail.  Both- 
well,  who  was  present  for  a  time  at  the  ball,  left  Edinburgh 
after  midnight  and  presided  at  the  killing.  These  circum- 
stances are  proved  in  an  irrefragable  manner  by  the  testimony 
of  witnesses,  by  the  confessions  of  the  actors,  and  by  the  let- 
ters of  Marie  Stuart,  the  authenticity  of  which  M.  Mignard, 
with  decisive  clearness,  places  beyond  all  doubt.  She  felt 
that  in  giving  herself  thus  to  Bothwell's  projects  she  fur- 
nished him  with  weapons  against  herself  and  gave  him 
grounds  to  distrust  her  in  turn.  He  might  say  to  himself,  as 
the  Duke  of  Norfolk  said  later,  that  "  the  pillow  of  such  a 
woman  was  too  hard  "  to  sleep  upon.  During  the  preparation 
of  this  horrible  trap  she  more  than  once  showed  her  repug- 
nance to  deceive  the  poor  sick  dupe  who  trusted  her.  "I 
shall  never  rejoice,"  she  writes,  "  through  deceiving  him  who 
trusts  me.  Nevertheless,  command  me  in  all  things.  But 
do  not  conceive  an  ill  opinion  of  me ;  because  you  yourself 
are  the  cause  of  this  ;  for  I  would  never  do  anything  against 
him  for  my  own  particular  vengeance."  And  truly  this  role 
of  Clytenmestra,  or  of  Gertrude  in  Hamlet  was  not  in  accord- 
ance with  her  nature,  and  could  only  have  been  imposed  upon 
her.  But  passion  rendered  her  for  this  once  insensible  to 
pity,  and  made  her  heart  (she  herself  avows  it)  "  as  hard  as 
diamond."  Marie  Stuart  soon  put  the  climax  to  her  ill- 
regulated  passion  and  desires  by  marrying  Both  well ;  thus 
revolting  the  mind  of  her  whole  people,  whose  morality, 
fanatical  as  it  was,  was  never  in  the  least  depraved,  and  was 
far  more  upright  than  that  of  the  nobles. 

The  crime  was  echoed  beyond  the  seas.     L'Hopital,  that 


132  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES, 

representative  of  the  human  conscience  in  a  dreadful  era, 
heard,  in  his  country  retreat,  of  the  misguided  conduct  of  her 
whose  early  grace  and  first  marriage  he  had  celebrated  in  his 
stately  epithalamium ;  and  he  now  recorded  his  indignation 
in  another  Latin  poem,  wherein  he  recounts  the  horrors  of 
that  funereal  night,  and  does  not  shrink  from  calling  the  wife 
and  the  young  mother  "  the  murderess,  alas !  of  a  father 
whose  child  was  still  at  her  breast." 

On  the  15th  of  May,  three  months  —  only  three  months 
after  the  murder,  at  the  first  smile  of  spring,  the  marriage 
with  the  murderer  was  celebrated.  Marie  Stuart  justified 
in  all  ways  Shakespeare's  saying :  "  Frailty,  thy  name  is 
Woman."  For  none  was  ever  more  a  woman  than  Marie 
Stuart. 

Here  I  am  unable  to  admit  the  third  reproach  of  Mme. 
Sand,  that  of  Marie  Stuart's  forgetfulness  of  Bothwell.  I 
see,  on  the  contrary,  through  all  the  ol^stacles,  all  the  perils 
immediately  following  this  marriage,  that  Marie  had  no  other 
idea  than  that  of  avoiding  separation  from  her  violent  and 
domineering  husband.  She  loved  him  so  madly  that  she 
said  to  whosoever  might  hear  her  (April,  1567)  tliat  "  she 
would  quit  France,  England,  and  her  own  country,  and  follow 
him  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  in  nought  but  a  white  petticoat, 
rather  than  be  parted  from  him."  And  soon  after,  forced  by 
the  lords  to  tear  herself  from  Bothwell,  she  reproaches  them 
bitterly,  asking  but  one  thing,  "  that  both  be  put  in  a  vessel 
and  sent  away  where  Fortune  led  them."  It  was  only  en- 
forced separation,  final  imprisonment,  and  the  impossibility 
of  communication,  which  compelled  the  rupture.  It  is  true 
that  Marie,  a  prisoner  in  England,  solicited  the  Parliament 
of  Scotland  to  annul  her  marriage  witli  Bothwell,  in  the  hope 
she  then  had  of  marrying  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  who  played 
the  lover  to  herself  and  crown,  thousrh  she  never  saw  him. 


MAKIE  STUART.  133 

But,  Bothwell  being  a  fugitive  and  ruined,  can  we  reproach 
Marie  Stuart  for  a  project  from  which  she  hoped  for  restora- 
tion and  deliverance  ?  Her  passion  for  Bothwell  had  been  a 
delirium,  which  drove  her  into  connivance  with  crime.  That 
fever  calmed,  Marie  Stuart  turned  her  mind  to  the  resources 
which  presented  themselves,  among  which  was  the  offer  of 
her  hand.  Her  wrong-doing  does  not  lie  there;  amid  so 
many  infidelities  and  horrors,  it  would  be  pushing  delicacy 
much  too  far  to  require  eternity  of  sentiment  for  the  re- 
mains of  an  unbridled  and  bloody  passion.  That  which  is 
due  to  such  passions,  when  they  leave  no  hatred  behind 
them,  that  which  becomes  them  best,  is  oblivion. 

Such  conduct,  and  such  deeds,  crowned  by  her  heedless 
flight  into  England  and  the  imprudent  abandonment  of  her 
person  to  Elizabeth,  seem  little  calculated  to  make  the  touch- 
ing and  pathetic  heroine  we  are  accustomed  to  admire  and 
cherish  in  Marie  Stuart.  Yet  she  deserves  all  pity  ;  and  we 
have  but  to  follow  her  through  the  third  and  last  portion  of 
her  life,  through  that  long,  unjust,  and  sorrowful  captivity 
of  nineteen  years  (May  18,  1568,  to  February  5,  1587)  to 
render  it  unconsciously.  Struggling  without  defence  against 
a  crafty  and  ambitious  rival,  liable  to  mistakes  from  friends 
outside,  the  victim  of  a  grasping  and  tenacious  policy  which 
never  let  go  its  prey  and  took  so  long  a  time  to  torture  before 
devouring  it,  she  never  for  a  single  instant  fails  towards  her- 
self ;  she  rises  ever  higher.  That  faculty  of  hope  which  so 
often  had  misled  her  becomes  the  grace  of  her  condition  and 
a  virtue.  She  moves  the  whole  world  in  the  interest  of  her 
misfortunes;  she  stirs  it  with  a  charm  all-powerful.  Her 
cause  transforms  and  magnifies  itself.  It  is  no  longer  that 
of  a  passionate  and  heedless  woman  punished  for  her  frailties 
and  her  inconstancy  ;  it  is  that  of  the  legitimate  heiress  of 
the  crown  of  England,  exposed  in  her  dungeon  to  the  eyes  of 


134  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

the  world,  a  faithful,  unshaken  Catholic,  who  refuses  to  sac- 
rifice her  faith  to  the  interests  of  her  ambition  or  even  to  the 
salvation  of  her  life.  The  beauty  and  grandeur  of  such  a 
role  were  fitted  to  stir  the  tender  and  naturally  believing 
heart  of  Marie  Stuart.  She  fills  her  soul  with  that  role ;  she 
substitutes  it,  from  the  first  moment  of  her  captivity,  for  all 
her  former  personal  sentiments,  which,  little  by  little,  subside 
and  expire  within  her  as  the  fugitive  occasions  which  aroused 
them  pass  away.  She  seems  to  remember  them  no  more  than 
she  does  the  waves  and  the  foam  of  those  brilliant  lakes  that 
she  has  crossed.  For  nineteen  years  the  whole  of  Catholicity 
is  disquieted  and  impassioned  about  her ;  and  she  is  there, 
half-heroine,  half-martyr,  making  the  signal  and  waving  her 
banner  beliiud  the  bars.  Captive  that  she  was,  do  not  accuse 
her  of  conspiring  against  Elizabeth  ;  for  with  her  ideas  of  right 
divine  and  of  absolute  kingship  from  sovereign  to  sovereign, 
it  was  not  conspiring,  she  being  a  prisoner,  to  seek  for  the 
triumph  of  her  cause ;  it  was  simply  pursuing  the  war. 

From  the  moment  when  Marie  Stuart  is  a  prisoner,  when 
we  see  her  crushed,  deprived  of  all  that  comforts  and  con- 
soles, infirm,  alas  !  with  whitened  liair  before  her  time,  when 
we  hear  her,  in  the  longest  and  most  remarkable  of  her 
letters  to  Elizabeth  (November  8,  1582),  repeating  for  the 
twentieth  time :  "  Your  prison,  without  right,  without  just 
grounds,  has  already  so  destroyed  my  body  that  you  will 
soon  see  an  end  if  this  lasts  much  longer ;  so  that  my 
enemies  have  no  great  time  to  satisfy  their  cruelty  against 
me  ;  nought  remains  to  me  but  my  soul,  the  which  it  is  not 
in  your  power  to  render  captive,"  —  when  we  dwell  on  this 
mixture  of  pride  and  plaint,  pity  carries  us  along ;  our  lienrts 
speak ;  the  tender  charm  with  which  she  was  endowed,  and 
which  acted  upon  all  who  approached  her,  asserts  its  power 
and  lays  its  spell  upon  us  even  at  this  distance.     It  is  not 


MAKIE  STUART.  135 

by  the  text  of  a  scribe,  nor  yet  with  the  logic  of  a  statesman 
that  we  judge  her ;  it  is  with  the  heart  of  a  knight,  or  rather, 
let  me  say,  with  that  of  a  man.  Humanity,  pity,  religion, 
supreme  poetic  grace,  all  those  invincible  and  immortal 
powers  feel  themselves  concerned  in  her  person  and  cry  to 
us  across  the  ages.  "  Bear  these  tidings,"  she  said  to  her 
old  Melvil  at  the  moment  of  death :  "  that  I  die  firm  in 
my  religion,  a  true  Catholic,  a  true  Scotchwoman,  a  true 
Frenchwoman."  These  behefs,  these  patriotisms  and  national- 
ities thus  evoked  by  Marie  Stuart  have  made  that  long 
echo  that  replies  to  her  with  tears  and  love. 

What  reproach  can  we  make  to  one  who,  after  nineteen 
years  of  anguish  and  moral  torture,  searched,  during  the 
night  that  preceded  her  death,  in  the  "  Lives  of  the  Saints  " 
(which  her  ladies  were  accustomed  to  read  to  her  nightly) 
for  some  great  sinner  whom  God  had  pardoned.  She 
stopped  at  the  story  of  the  penitent  thief,  which  seemed  to 
her  the  most  reassuring  example  of  human  confidence  and 
divine  mercy ;  and  while  Jean  Kennedy,  one  of  her  ladies, 
read  it  to  her,  she  said :  "  He  was  a  great  sinner,  but  not  so 
great  as  I.  I  implore  our  Lord,  in  memory  of  His  Passion, 
to  remember  and  liave  mercy  upon  me,  as  He  had  upon  liim, 
in  the  hour  of  death."  Tliose  true  and  sincere  feelings,  that 
contrite  humility  in  her  last  and  sublime  moments,  this  per- 
fect intelligence,  and  profound  need  of  pardon,  leave  us  with- 
out means  of  seeing  any  stain  of  the  past  upon  her  except 
through  tears. 

It  was  thus  that  old  Etienne  Pasquier  felt.  Having  to 
relate  in  his  "  Ptccherches "  the  death  of  ]\Iarie  Stuart,  he 
compares  it  with  the  tragic  history  of  the  Conn^table  de 
Saint-Pol,  and  that  of  the  Conndtable  de  Bourbon,  which 
left  him  under  a  mixture  of  conflicting  sentiments.  "But 
in  that  of  which  I  now  discourse,"  he  says,  "  methinks  I  see 


136  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

only  tears ;  and  is  there,  by  chance,  a  man  who,  reading 
this,  will  not  forgive  his  eyes  ? " 

M.  Mignet,  who  examines  all  things  as  an  historian,  and 
gives  but  short  pages  to  emotion,  has  admirably  distinguished 
and  explained  the  different  pliases  of  Marie  Stuart's  cap- 
tivity, and  the  secret  springs  which  were  set  to  work  at 
various  periods.  He  has,  especially,  cast  a  new  light,  aided 
by  Spanish  documents  in  the  Archives  of  Simancas,  on  the 
slow  preparations  of  the  enterprise  undertaken  by  Philip 
II.,  that  fruitless  and  tardy  crusade,  delayed  until  after  the 
death  of  Marie  Stuart,  which  ended  in  the  disastrous  shij)- 
wreck  of  the  invincible  Armada. 

Issuing  from  this  brilliant  and  stormy  episode  of  the  history 
of  the  sixteenth  century,  which  has  been  so  strongly  and  judi- 
ciously set  before  us  by  M.  Mignet,  full  of  these  scenes  of 
violence,  treachery,  and  iniquity,  and  witliout  having  the  inno- 
cence to  believe  that  humanity  has  done  forever  with  such 
deeds,  we  congratulate  ourselves  in  spite  of  everything,  and 
rejoice  that  we  live  in  an  age  of  softened  and  amehoratcd 
public  morals.  We  exclaim  with  M.  de  Tavannes,  when  he 
relates  in  his  "  Memoirs  "  the  life  and  death  of  Marie  Stuart : 
"  Happy  he  who  lives  in  a  safe  State ;  where  good  and  e^■il 
are  rewarded  and  punished  according  to  their  deserts." 
Happy  the  times  and  the  communities  where  a  certain  general 
morality  and  human  respect  for  opinion,  where  a  penal 
( 'ode,  and  especially  the  continual  check  of  publicity,  exist 
to  interdict,  even  to  the  boldest,  those  criminal  resolutions 
which  every  human  heart,  if  left  to  itself,  is  ever  tempted  to 
engender. 

Sainte-Beuve,  Causeries  du  Linidi  (1851). 


DISCOUESE  IV. 

:feLISABETH  OF  FRANCE,  QUEEN  OF  SPAIN. 

I  WKITE  here  of  the  Queen  of  Spain,  Elisabeth  of  France, 
a  true  daughter  of  France  in  everything,  a  beautiful,  wise, 
virtuous,  spiritual,  and  good  queen  if  ever  there  was  one ; 
and  I  believe  since  Saint  Elisabeth  no  one  has  borne  that 
name  who  surpassed  her  in  all  sorts  of  virtues  and  per- 
fections, although  that  beautiful  name  of  Elisabeth  has 
been  fateful  of  goodness,  virtue,  sanctity,  and  perfection  to 
those  who  have  borne  it,  as  many  believe.^ 

When  she  was  born  at  Fontainebleau,  the  king  her  grand- 
father, and  her  father  and  mother  made  very  great  joy  of  it ; 
you  would  have  said  she  was  a  lucky  star  bringing  good 
hap  to  France ;  for  her  baptism  brought  peace  to  us,  as  did 
her  marriage.  See  how  good  fortunes  are  gathered  in  one 
person  to  be  distributed  on  diverse  occasions ;  for  then  it 
was  that  peace  was  made  with  King  Henry  [VIII.]  of  Eng- 
land ;  and  to  confirm  and  strengthen  it  our  king  made  him 
her  sponsor  and  gave  to  his  goddaughter  the  beautiful  name 
of  Elisabeth ;  at  whose  birth  and  baptism  the  rejoicings 
were  as  great  as  at  those  of  the  little  King  Francois  the 
last. 

Child  as  she  w^as,  she  jiromised  to  be  some  great  thing  at 
a  future  day;  and  when  she  came  to  be  grown  up  she 
promised  it  more  surely  still ;  for  all  virtue  and  goodness 

1  She  was  the  daughter  of  Henri  II.  and  Catherine  de'  Medici,  married 
to  Philip  II.,  King  of  Spain,  after  the  death  of  Queen  Mary  of  England.  — 
Tr. 


138  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

abounded  in  her,  so  that  the  whole  Court  admired  her,  and 
prognosticated  a  fine  grandeur  and  great  royalty  to  her  in 
time.  So  they  say  that  when  King  Henri  married  his 
second  daughter,  Madame  Claude,  to  the  Due  de  Lorraine, 
there  were  some  who  remonstrated  against  the  wrong  done 
to  the  elder  in  marrying  the  younger  before  her;  but  tlie 
king  made  this  response  :  "  My  daughter  Elisabeth  is  such 
that  a  duchy  is  not  for  her  to  marry.  She  must  have  a 
kingdom ;  and  even  so,  not  one  of  the  lesser  but  one  of  the 
greater  kingdoms ;  so  great  is  she  herself  in  all  things  ; 
which  assures  me  that  she  can  miss  none,  wherefore  she  can 
wait." 

You  would  have  said  he  prophesied  the  future.  He  did 
not  fail  on  his  side  to  seek  and  procure  one  for  her ;  for  when 
peace  was  made  between  the  two  kings  at  Cercan  she  was 
promised  in  marriage  to  Don  Carlos,  Prince  of  Spain,  a  brave 
and  gallant  prince  and  the  image  of  his  grandfather,  the 
Emperor  Charles,  had  he  lived.  But  the  King  of  Spain,  his 
father,  becoming  a  widower  by  the  death  of  the  Queen  of 
England,  his  wife  and  cousin-german,  and  having  seen  the 
portrait  of  Madame  Elisabeth  and  finding  her  very  beautiful 
and  much  to  his  liking,  cut  the  ground  from  under  the  feet 
of  his  son  and  did  himself  the  charity  of  wedding  her  him- 
self. On  which  the  French  and  Spaniards  said  with  one 
voice  that  one  would  think  she  was  conceived  and  born  be- 
fore the  world  and  reserved  by  God  until  his  will  had  joined 
her  with  this  great  king,  her  husband  ;  for  it  must  have 
been  predestined  that  he,  being  so  great,  so  powerful, 
and  thus  approaching  in  all  grandeur  to  the  skies,  should 
marry  no  other  princess  than  one  so  perfect  and  accom- 
plished. When  the  Duke  of  Alba  came  to  see  her  and 
espouse  her  for  the  king,  his  master,  he  found  her  so  ex- 
tremely agreeable  and  suited  to  the  said  master  that  he  said 


Elisabeth  of  France.  139 

she  was  a  princess  who  would  make  the  King  of  Spain  very 
easily  forget  his  grief  for  his  last  two  wives,  the  English  and 
the  Portuguese. 

After  this,  as  I  have  heard  from  a  good  quarter,  the  said 
prince,  Don  Carlos,  having  seen  her,  became  so  distractedly 
in  love  with  her,  and  so  full  of  jealousy,  that  he  bore  a  great 
grudge  against  his  father,  and  was  so  angry  with  him  for 
having  deprived  him  of  so  fine  a  prize  that  he  never  loved 
him  more,  but  reproached  him  with  the  great  wrong  and 
insult  he  had  done  him  in  taking  her  who  had  been  promised 
to  him  solemnly  in  the  treaty  of  peace.  They  do  say  that 
this  was,  in  part,  the  cause  of  his  death,  with  other  topics 
which  I  shall  not  speak  of  at  this  hour ;  for  he  could  not 
keep  himself  from  loving  her  in  his  soul,  honouring  and 
reverinfT  her,  so  charminsr  and  ag[raeable  did  she  seem  in  his 
eyes,  as  certainly  she  was  in  everything. 

Her  face  was  handsome,  her  hair  and  eyes  so  shaded  her 
complexion  and  made  it  the  more  attractive  that  I  have  heard 
say  in  Spain  that  the  courtiers  dared  not  look  upon  her  for 
fear  of  being  taken  in  love  and  causing  jealousy  to  the  king, 
her  husband,  and,  consequently,  running  risk  of  their  lives. 

The  Church  people  did  the  same  from  fear  of  temptation, 
they  not  having  strength  to  command  their  flesh  to  look  at 
her  without  being  tempted.  Although  she  had  had  the 
small-pox,  after  being  grown-up  and  married,  they  had  so 
well  preserved  her  face  with  poultices  of  fresh  eggs  (a  very 
proper  thing  for  that  purpose)  that  no  marks  appeared.  I 
saw  the  queen,  her  mother,  very  much  concerned  to  send 
her  by  many  couriers  many  remedies  ;  but  this  of  the  egg- 
poultice  was  sovereign. 

Her  figure  was  very  fine,  taller  than  that  of  her  sisters, 
which  made  her  much  admired  in  Spain,  where  such  tall 
women  are  rare,  and  for  that  the  more  esteemed.     And  with 


140  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

this  figure  slie  had  a  bearing,  a  majesty,  a  gesture,  a  gait  and 
grace  that  intermingled  the  Frenchwoman  with  the  Spaniard 
in  sweetness  and  gravity ;  so  that,  as  I  myself  saw,  when  she 
passed  through  her  Court,  or  went  out  to  certain  places, 
whether  churches,  or  monasteries,  or  gardens,  there  was  such 
great  press  to  see  her,  and  the  crowd  of  persons  was  so  tliick, 
there  was  no  turning  round  in  the  mob  ;  and  happy  was  he 
or  she  who  could  say  in  the  evening,  "  I  saw  the  queen." 
It  was  said,  and  I  saw  it  myself,  that  no  queen  was  ever 
loved  in  Spain  like  her  (begging  pardon  of  the  Queen  Isabella 
of  Castile),  and  her  subjects  called  her  la  reyna  de  la  pa.z  y 
de  la  hojidad,  that  is  to  say,  "  the  queen  of  peace  and  kind- 
ness ; "  but  our  Frenchmen  called  her  "  the  olive-branch  of 
peace." 

A  year  before  she  came  to  France  to  visit  her  mother  at 
Bayonne,  she  fell  ill  to  such  extremity  that  the  physicians 
gave  her  up.  On  which  a  little  Italian  doctor,  who  had  no 
great  vogue  at  Court,  presenting  himself  to  the  king,  declared 
that  if  he  were  allowed  to  act  he  would  cure  her ;  which  the 
king  permitted,  she  being  almost  dead.  The  doctor  under- 
took her  and  gave  her  a  medicine,  after  which  they  suddenly 
saw  the  colour  return  miraculously  to  her  face,  her  speech 
came  back,  and  then,  soon  after,  her  convalescence  began. 
Nevertheless  the  whole  Court  and  all  the  people  of  Spain 
blocked  the  roads  with  processions  and  comings  and  goings  to 
churches  and  hospitals  for  her  health's  sake,  some  in  sliirts, 
others  bare-footed  and  bare-headed,  offering  oblations,  prayers, 
orisons,  intercessions  to  God,  with  fasts,  macerations  of  the 
body,  and  other  good  and  saintly  devotions  for  lier  health ; 
so  that  every  one  believes  firmly  that  these  good  prayers, 
tears,  vows,  and  cries  to  God  were  the  cause  of  her  cure, 
rather  than  the  medicine  of  that  doctor. 

I  arrived  in  Spain  a  month  after  this  recovery   of   her 


ELISABETH  OF  FRANCE.  141 

health ;  but  I  saw  so  much  devotion  among  the  people  in 
giving  thanks  to  God,  by  fetes,  rejoicings,  magnificences,  fire- 
works, that  there  was  no  doubting  in  any  way  how  much 
they  felt.  I  saw  nothing  else  in  Spain  as  I  travelled  through 
it,  and  reaching  the  Court  just  two  days  after  she  left  her 
room,  I  saw  her  come  out  and  get  into  her  coach,  sitting  at 
the  door  of  it,  which  was  her  usual  place,  because  such  beauty 
should  not  be  hidden  within,  but  displayed  openly. 

She  was  dressed  in  a  gown  of  white  satin  all  covered  with 
silver  trimmings,  her  face  uncovered.  I  think  that  nothing 
was  ever  seen  more  beautiful  than  this  queen,  as  I  had  the 
boldness  to  tell  her ;  for  she  had  given  me  a  right  good  wel- 
come and  cheer,  coming  as  I  did  from  France  and  the  Court, 
and  bringing  her  news  of  the  king,  her  good  brother,  and  the 
queen,  her  good  mother  ;  for  all  her  joy  and  pleasure  was  to 
know  of  them.  It  was  not  I  alone  who  thought  her  beautiful, 
but  all  the  Court  and  all  the  people  of  Madrid  thought  so 
likewise  ;  so  that  it  might  be  said  that  even  illness  favoured 
her,  for  after  doing  her  such  cruel  harm  it  embellished  her 
skin,  making  it  so  delicate  and  polished  that  she  was  cer- 
tainly more  beautiful  than  ever  before. 

Leaving  thus  her  chamber  for  the  first  time,  to  do  the 
best  and  saintliest  thing  she  could  she  went  to  the  churches 
to  give  thanks  to  God  for  the  favour  of  her  health ;  and  this 
good  work  she  continued  for  the  space  of  fifteen  days,  not 
to  speak  of  the  vow  she  made  to  Our  Lady  of  Guadalupe ; 
letting  the  whole  people  see  her  face  uncovered  (as  was  her 
usual  fashion)  till  you  might  have  thought  they  worshipped 
her,  so  to  speak,  rather  than  honoured  or  revered  her. 

So  when  she  died  [1568],  as  I  have  heard  the  late  M.  de 
Lignerolles,  who  saw  her  die,  relate,  he  having  gone  to  carry 
to  the  King  of  Spain  the  news  of  the  victory  of  Jarnac,  never 
were  a  people  so  afflicted,  so  disconsolate ;  none  ever  shed 


142  THE  BOOK  OF  THE   LADIES. 

SO  many  tears,  being  unable  to  recover  themselves  in  any 
way,  but  mourning  her  with  despair  incessantly. 

She  made  a  noble  end  [a^.  23],  leaving  this  world  with 
firm  courage,  and  desiring  much  the  other. 

Sinister  things  have  been  said  of  her  death,  as  having 
been  hastened.  I  have  heard  one  of  her  ladies  tell  thot 
the  first  time  she  saw  her  husband  she  looked  at  him  so 
fixedly  that  the  king,  not  liking  it,  said  to  her :  Que  mirais  ? 
Si  tengo  canas  ?  which  means :  "  What  are  you  gazing  at  ? 
Is  my  hair  white  ? "  These  words  touched  her  so  much  to 
the  heart  that  ever  after  her  ladies  augured  ill  for  her. 

It  is  said  that  a  Jesuit,  a  man  of  importance,  speaking  of 
her  one  day  in  a  sermon,  and  praising  her  rare  virtues, 
charities,  and  kindness,  let  fall  the  words  that  she  had 
wickedly  been  made  to  die,  innocent  as  she  was;  for  which 
he  was  banished  to  the  farthest  depths  of  tlie  Indies  of 
Spain.     This  is  very  true,  as  I  have  been  told. 

There  are  other  conjectures  so  great  that  silence  wm^i  be 
kept  about  them ;  but  very  true  it  is  that  this  princess  was 
the  best  of  her  time  and  loved  by  every  one. 

So  long  as  she  lived  in  Spain  never  did  she  forget  the 
affection  she  bore  to  France,  and  in  that  was  not  like  Ger- 
maine  de  Foix,  second  wife  of  King  Ferdinand,  who  when 
she  saw  herself  raised  to  such  high  rank  became  so  haugluy 
that  she  made  no  account  of  her  own  country,  and  disdained 
it  so  much  that,  when  Louis  XIL,  her  uncle,  and  Ferdinand 
came  to  Savonne,  she,  being  with  her  husband,  held  herself 
so  high  that  never  would  she  notice  a  Frenchman,  not  eveii 
her  brother  Gaston  de  Foix,  Due  de  Xemours,  neither  would 
she  deign  to  speak  or  look  at  the  greatest  persons  of  France 
who  were  present ;  for  which  she  was  much  ridiculed.  But 
after  the  death  of  her  husband  she  suffered  for  this,  having 
fallen  from  her  high  e-tate  and  being  held  in  no  great  ac- 


Elisabeth  of  France.  143 

count,  whereat  she  was  miserable.  They  say  there  are  none 
so  vainglorious  as  persons  of  low  estate  who  rise  to  grandeur ; 
not  that  I  mean  to  say  that  princess  was  of  low  estate,  being 
of  the  house  of  Foix,  a  very  illustrious  and  great  house ;  but 
from  simple  daughter  of  a  count  to  be  queen  of  so  great  a 
kingdom  was  a  rise  which  gave  occasion  to  feel  much  glory, 
but  not  to  forget  herself  or  abuse  her  station  towards  a  King 
of  France,  her  uncle,  and  her  nearest  relations  and  others 
of  the  land  of  her  birth.  In  this  she  showed  she  lacked 
a  great  mind;  or  else  that  she  was  foolishly  vainglorious. 
For  surely  there  is  a  difference  between  the  house  of  Foix 
and  the  house  of  France ;  not  that  I  mean  to  say  the  house 
of  Foix  is  not  great  and  very  noble,  but  the  house  of  France 
-hey! 

Our  Queen  Ehsabeth  never  did  like  that.  She  was  born 
great  in  herself,  great  in  mind  and  very  able,  so  that  a 
royal  grandeur  could  not  fail  her.  She  had,  if  she  had 
wished  it,  double  cause  over  Germaine  de  Foix  to  be 
haughty  and  arrogant,  for  she  was  daughter  of  a  great  King 
of  France,  and  married  to  the  greatest  king  in  tlie  world,  he 
being  not  the  monarch  of  one  kingdom,  but  of  many,  or,  as 
one  might  say,  of  all  the  Spains,  —  Jerusalem,  the  Two 
Sicilies,  Majorca,  Minorca,  Sardinia,  and  the  Western  Indies, 
which  seem  indeed  a  world,  besides  being  lord  of  infinitely 
more  lands  and  greater  seigneuries  than  Ferdinand  ever  had. 
Therefore  we  should  laud  our  princess  for  her  gentleness, 
which  is  well  becoming  in  a  great  personage  towards  each 
and  ail ;  and  likew-ise  for  the  affection  she  showed  to 
Frenchmen,  w^ho,  on  arriving  in  Spain,  were  welcomed  by 
her  with  so  benign  a  face,  the  least  among  them  as  well  as 
the  greatest,  that  none  ever  left  her  without  feeling  honoured 
and  content.  I  can  speak  for  myself,  as  to  the  honour  she 
did  me  in  talking   to  me  often  during   the  time  I  stayed 


144  THE   BOOK   OF   THE   LADIES. 

there  ;  asking  me,  at  all  hours,  news  of  the  king,  the  queen 
her  mother,  messieurs  her  brothers,  and  madame  her  sister, 
with  others  of  the  Court,  not  forgetting  to  name  them.,  each 
and  all,  and  to  inquire  about  them  ;  so  that  I  wondered 
much  how  she  could  remember  these  things  as  if  she  had 
just  left  the  Court  of  France ;  and  I  often  asked  her  how 
it  was  possible  she  could  keep  such  memories  in  the  midst 
of  her  grandeur. 

When  she  came  to  Bayonne  she  showed  herself  just  as 
famihar  with  the  ladies  and  maids  of  honour,  neither  more 
nor  less,  as  she  was  when  a  girl;  and  as  for  those  who 
were  absent  or  married  since  her  departure,  she  inquired 
with  great  interest  about  them  all.  She  did  the  same  to 
the  gentlemen  of  her  acquaintance,  and  to  those  who  were 
not,  informing  herself  as  to  who  the  latter  were,  and  say- 
ini,' :  "  Such  and  such  were  at  Court  in  my  dav,  I  knew  them 
well ;  but  these  were  not,  and  I  desire  to  know  them."  In 
short,  she  contented  every  one. 

When  she  made  her  entry  into  Bayonne  she  was  mounted 
on  an  ambling  horse,  most  superbly  and  richly  caparisoned 
with  pearl  embroideries  which  had  formerly  been  used  by 
the  deceased  empress  when  she  made  her  entries  into  her 
towns,  and  were  thought  to  be  worth  one  hundred  tliousand 
crowns,  and  some  say  more.  She  had  a  noble  grace  on  horse- 
back, and  it  was  fine  to  see  her ;  slie  showed  herself  so 
beautiful  and  so  agreeable  that  every  one  was  charmed  with 
her. 

We  all  had  commands  to  go  to  meet  her,  and  accompany 
her  on  this  entry,  as  indeed  it  was  our  duty  to  do ;  and  we 
were  gratified  when,  having  made  her  our  reverence,  she  did 
us  the  honour  to  thank  us ;  and  to  me  above  all  she  gave 
good  greeting,  because  it  was  scarcely  four  months  since  I 
had  left  her  in  Spain ;  which  touched  me    much,  receiving 


I:lisabeth  of  france.  145 

such  favour  above  my  companions  and  more  honour  than 
belonged  to  me. 

On  my  return  from  Portugal  and  from  Pignon  de  Belis 
[Penon  de  Velez],  a  fortress  which  was  taken  in  Barbary, 
she  welcomed  me  very  warmly,  asking  me  news  of  the  con- 
quest and  of  the  army.  She  presented  me  to  Don  Carlos, 
who  came  into  her  room,  together  with  the  princess,  and  to 
Don  Juan  [of  Austria,  Philip  II.'s  brother,  the  conqueror 
of  Lepanto].  I  was  two  days  without  going  to  see  her,  on 
account  of  a  toothache  I  had  got  upon  the  sea.  She  asked 
Eiberac,  maid  of  honour,  where  I  was  and  if  I  were  ill,  and 
having  heard  what  my  trouble  was  she  sent  me  her  apothe- 
cary, who  brought  me  an  herb  very  special  for  that  ache, 
which,  on  merely  being  held  in  the  palm  of  the  hand,  cures 
the  pain  suddenly,  as  it  did  very  quickly  for  me. 

I  can  boast  that  I  was  the  first  to  bring  the  queen-mother 
word  of  Queen  Elisabeth's  desire  to  come  to  France  and  see 
her,  for  which  she  thanked  me  much  both  then  and  later ; 
for  the  Queen  of  Spain  was  her  good  daughter,  whom  she 
loved  above  the  others,  and  who  returned  her  the  like ;  for 
Queen  Elisabeth  so  honoured,  respected,  and  feared  her  that 
I  have  heard  her  say  she  never  received  a  letter  from 
the  queen,  her  mother,  without  trembling  and  dreading  lest 
she  was  angry  with  her  and  had  written  some  painful 
thing;  though,  God  knows,  she  had  never  said  one  to  her 
since  she  was  married,  nor  been  angry  with  her ;  but  the 
daughter  feared  the  mother  so  much  that  she  always  had 
that  apprehension. 

It  was  on  this  journey  to  Bayonne  that  Pompadour  the 
elder  having  killed  Chambret  at  Bordeaux,  wrongfully  as 
some  say,  the  queen-mother  was  so  angry  that  if  she  could 
have  caught  him  she  would  have  had  him  beheaded,  and  no 
one  dared  speak  to  her  of  mercy. 

10 


146  THE   BOOK  OF  THE   LADIES. 

M.  Strozzi,  who  was  fond  of  the  said  Pompadour,  be- 
thought him  of  employing  his  sister,  Siguora  Clarice  Strozzi, 
Comtesse  de  Tenda,  wliom  the  Queen  of  Spain  loved  from 
her  earliest  years,  they  having  studied  together.  The  said 
countess,  who  loved  her  brother,  did  not  refuse  him,  but 
begged  the  Queen  of  Spain  to  intercede  ;  who  answered  that 
she  would  do  anytliing  for  lier  except  that,  because  she 
dreaded  to  irritate  and  annoy  the  queen,  her  mother,  and 
displease  her.  But  the  countess  continuing  to  importune 
her,  she  employed  a  third  person  who  sounded  the  ford 
privately,  telling  the  queen-mother  that  the  queen,  her 
daugliter,  would  have  asked  this  pardon  to  gratify  the  said 
countess  had  she  not  feared  to  displease  her.  To  which  the 
queen-mother  replied  that  the  thing  must  be  wholly  impos- 
sible to  make  her  refuse  it.  On  which  the  Queen  of  Spain 
made  her  little  request,  but  still  in  fear ;  and  suddenly  it  was 
granted.  Such  w^as  the  kindness  of  this  princess,  and  her 
virtue  in  honouring  and  fearuig  the  queen,  her  mother,  she 
being  herself  so  great.  Alas  !  the  Christian  proverb  did  not 
hold  good  in  her  case,  namely :  "  He  that  would  live  long 
years  must  love  and  honour  and  fear  his  father  and  mother  ; " 
for,  in  spite  of  doing  all  that,  she  died  in  the  lovely  and 
pleasant  April  of  her  days  ;  for  now,  at  the  time  I  write, 
[1591]  she  would  have  been,  had  she  lived,  forty-six  years 
old.  Alas  !  that  this  fair  sun  disappeared  so  soon  in  a  dark- 
some grave,  when  she  might  have  lighted  this  fine  world  for 
twenty  good  years  without  even  then  being  touclied  by  age ; 
for  she  was  by  nature  and  complexion  fitted  to  keep  her 
beauty  long,  and  even  had  old  age  attacked  her,  her  beauty 
was  of  a  kind  to  be  the  stronger. 

Surely,  if  lier  death  was  hard  to  Spaniards,  it  was  still 
more  b'ittiT  to  us  Frenchmen,  for  as  long  as  she  lived  France 
was   never   invaded    by  those    quarrels   which,  since   then, 


Elisabeth  of  France.  147 

Spain  has  put  upon  us ;  so  well  did  she  know  how  to  win 
and  persuade  the  king,  her  husband,  for  our  good  and  our 
peace ;  the  which  should  make  us  ever  mourn  her. 

She  left  two  daughters,  the  most  honourable  and  virtuous 
infantas  in  Christendom.  When  they  were  large  enough, 
that  is  to  say,  three  or  four  years  old,  she  begged  her  hus- 
band to  leave  the  eldest  wholly  to  her  that  she  might  bring 
her  up  in  the  French  fashion.  Which  the  king  willingly 
granted.  So  she  took  her  in  hand,  and  gave  her  a  fine  and 
noble  training  in  the  style  of  her  own  country,  so  that  to-day 
that  iafanta  is  as  French  as  her  sister,  the  Duchesse  de  Savoie, 
is  Spanish ;  she  loves  and  cherishes  France  as  her  mother 
taught  her,  and  you  may  be  sure  that  all  the  influence  and 
power  that  she  has  with  the  king,  her  father,  she  employs 
for  the  help  and  succour  of  those  poor  Frenchmen  whom  she 
knows  are  suffering  in  Spanish  hands.  I  have  heard  it 
said  that  after  the  rout  of  M.  Strozzi,  very  many  French 
soldiers  and  gentlemen  having  been  put  in  the  galleys, 
she  went,  when  at  Lisbon,  to  visit  all  the  galleys  that  were 
then  there ;  and  all  the  Frenchmen  whom  she  found  on 
the  chain,  to  the  number  of  six  twenties,  she  caused  to  be 
released,  giving  them  money  to  reach  tlieir  own  land ;  so 
that  the  captains  of  the  galleys  were  obliged  to  hide  those 
that  remained. 

She  was  a  very  beautiful  princess  and  very  agreeable,  of 
an  extremely  graceful  mind,  who  knew  all  the  affairs  of  the 
kingdom  of  the  king,  her  father,  and  was  well  trained  in 
them.  I  hope  to  speak  of  her  hereafter  by  herself,  for  she 
deserves  all  honour  for  the  love  she  bears  to  France ;  she 
says  she  can  never  part  with  it,  havhig  good  right  to  it ;  and 
we,  if  we  have  obligation  to  this  princess  for  loving  us,  how 
much  more  should  we  have  to  the  queen,  her  mother,  for 
having  thus  brought  her  up  and  taught  her. 


148  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

Would  to  God  I  were  a  good  enough  petrarchizer  to  exalt 
as  I  desire  this  Elisabeth  of  France !  for,  if  the  beauty  of 
her  body  gives  me  most  ample  ruatter,  that  of  her  fine  soul 
gives  me  still  more,  as  these  verses,  which  were  made  upon 
her  at  Court  at  the  time  she  was  married,  will  testify : 

Happy  the  prince  whom  Heaven  ordains 
To  Elisabeth's  sweet  acquaintance  : 
IMore  precious  far  than  crown  or  sceptre 
The  glad  enjoyment  of  so  great  a  treasure- 
Gifts  most  divine  she  had  at  birth, 
The  proof  and  the  effect  of  which  we  see; 
Her  youthful  years  showed  then-  appearance, 
But  now  her  virtues  bear  their  perfect  fruit. 

When  this  queen  was  put  into  the  hands  of  the  Due  de 
rinfantado  and  the  Cardinal  de  Burgos,  who  were  com- 
missioned by  their  king  to  receive  her  at  Eoncevaux  in  a 
great  hall,  after  the  said  deputies  had  made  their  reverence, 
she  rising  ftom  her  chair  to  welcome  them.  Cardinal  de 
Burgos  harangued  her;  to  whom  she  made  response  so 
honourably,  and  in  such  fine  fashion  and  good  grace  that  he 
was  quite  amazed ;  for  she  spoke  in  the  best  manner,  having 
been  very  well  taught. 

After  which  the  King  of  Navan'e,  who  was  there  as  her 
principal  conductor,  and  also  leader  of  all  the  army  which 
was  with  her,  was  summoned  to  deliver  her,  according  to 
the  order,  which  was  shown  to  the  Cardinal  de  Bourbon,  to 
receive  her.  The  king  replied,  for  he  spoke  well,  and  said  : 
"  I  place  in  your  hands  this  princess,  whom  I  have  brought 
from  the  house  of  the  greatest  kins  in  the  world  to  be 
placed  in  the  hands  of  the  most  illustrious  king  on  earth. 
Knowing  you  to  be  very  sufficient  and  chosen  by  the  king 
your  master  to  receive  her,  I  make  no  difficulty  nor  doubt 
that  you  will  acquit  yourselves  worthily  of  this  trust,  which 


Elisabeth  of  fkance.  149 

I  now  discharge  upon  you ;  begging  you  to  have  peculiar 
care  of  her  health  and  person,  for  she  deserves  it ;  and  I 
wish  you  to  know  that  never  did  there  enter  Spain  so  great 
an  ornament  of  all  virtues  and  chastities,  as  in  time  you  will 
know  well  by  results." 

The  Spaniards  replied  at  once  that  already  at  first  sight 
they  had  very  ample  knowledge  of  this  from  her  manner 
and  grave  majesty  ;  and,  in  truth,  her  virtues  were  rare. 

She  had  great  knowledge,  because  the  queen  her  mother 
had  made  her  study  well  under  M.  de  Saint-Etienne,  her 
preceptor,  whom  she  always  loved  and  respected  until  her 
death.  She  loved  poesy,  and  to  read  it.  She  spoke  well, 
in  either  French  or  Spanish,  with  a  very  noble  air  and  much 
good  grace.  Her  Spanish  language  was  beautiful,  as  dainty 
and  attractive  as  possible ;  she  learned  it  in  three  or  four 
months  after  coming  to  Spain. 

To  Frenchmen  she  always  spoke  French ;  never  being 
willing  to  discontinue  it,  but  reading  it  daily  in  the  fine 
books  they  sent  from  France,  which  she  was  very  anxious 
to  have  brought  to  her.  To  Spaniards  and  all  others  she 
spoke  Spanish  and  very  well.  In  short,  she  was  perfect  in 
all  things,  and  so  magnificent  and  liberal  that  no  one  could 
be  more  so.  She  never  wore  her  gowns  a  second  time,  but 
gave  them  to  her  ladies  and  maids ;  and  God  knows  what 
gowns  they  were,  so  rich  and  so  superb  that  the  least  was 
reckoned  at  three  or  four  hundred  crowns  ;  for  the  king,  her 
husband,  kept  her  most  superbly  in  such  matters ;  so  that 
every  day  she  had  a  new  one,  as  I  was  told  by  her  tailor, 
who  from  being  a  very  poor  man  became  so  rich  that 
nothing  exceeded  him,  as  I  saw  myself. 

She  dressed  well,  and  very  pompously,  and  her  habili- 
ments became  her  much  ;  among  other  things  her  sleeves 
were  slashed,  with  scollops  which  they  call  in  Spanish  ^puri' 


150  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES 

tas  ;  her  head-dress  the  same,  where  nothing  lacked.  Those 
who  see  her  thus  in  painting  admire  her ;  I  therefore  leave 
you  to  think  what  pleasure  they  had  who  saw  her  face  to 
face,  with  all  her  gestures  and  good  graces. 

As  for  pearls  and  jewels  in  great  quantity,  she  never 
lacked  them,  for  the  king,  her  husband,  ordered  a  great  estate 
for  her  and  for  lier  household.  Alas  !  what  served  her 
that  for  such  an  end  ?  Her  ladies  and  maids  of  honour  felt 
it.  Those  who,  being  French,  could  not  constrain  them- 
selves to  live  in  a  foreign  land,  she  caused,  by  a  prayer 
which  she  made  to  the  king,  her  husband,  to  receive  each 
four  thousand  crowns  on  their  marriage ;  as  was  done  to 
Mesdaraoiselles  Eiberac,  sisters,  otherwise  called  Guitigniferes, 
de  Fuinel,  the  two  sisters  de  Thorigny,  de  Noyau,  d'Arne, 
de  La  ]\Iotte  au  Groin,  Montal,  and  several  others.  Those 
who  were  willing  to  remain  were  better  off,  like  Mesdamoi- 
selles  de  Saint-Ana  and  de  Saint-Legier,  who  had  the  honour 
to  be  governesses  to  Mesdames  the  infantas,  and  were  mar- 
ried very  richly  to  two  great  seigneurs ;  they  were  the 
wisest,  for  better  is  it  to  be  great  in  a  foreign  country  than 
little  in  your  own,  — -  as  Jesus  said  :  "  No  one  is  a  prophet  in 
his  own  land." 

Tliis  is  all,  at  this  time,  that  I  shall  say  of  this  good,  wise 
and  very  virtuous  queen,  though  later  I  may  speak  of  her. 
But  I  give  this  sonnet  which  was  written  to  her  praise  by 
an  honourable  gentleman,  she  being  still  Madame,  though 
promised  in  marriage  :  — 

"  Princess,  to  whom  the  skies  give  such  advantage 
That,  for  the  part  you  liave  in  Heaven's  divinity, 
They  grant  you  all  the  virtues  of  this  eartli. 
And  crown  you  with  the  gift  of  immortality  : 

"  And  since  it  pleased  them  that  in  early  years 
Your  heavenly  gifts  of  deity  be  seen, 


:fcLISABETH  OF  FRANCE.  151 

So  that  you  temper  with  a  humble  gravity 
The  royal  grandeur  of  your  sacred  heritage  : 

"  And  also  since  it  pleases  them  to  favour  you, 
And  place  in  you  the  best  of  all  their  best, 
So  that  your  name  is  cherished  every^,vhere  : 

"  Methinks  that  name  should  undergo  a  change, 
And  though  we  call  you  now  Elisabeth  of  France, 
You  should  be  named  Elisabeth  of  Heaven." 

I  know  that  I  may  be  reproved  for  putting  into  this  Dis- 
course and  others  preceding  it  too  many  little  particulars 
which  are  quite  superfluous.  I  think  so  myself ;  but  I  know 
that  if  they  displease  some  persons,  they  will  please  others. 
Methinks  it  is  not  enough  when  we  laud  persons  to  say  that 
they  are  handsome,  wise,  virtuous,  valorous,  valiant,  magnan- 
imous, liberal,  splendid,  and  very  perfect ;  those  are  general 
descriptions  and  praises  and  commonplace  sayings,  borrowed 
from  everybody.  AVe  should  specify  such  things  and  describe 
particularly  all  perfections,  so  that  one  may,  as  it  were,  touch 
them  with  the  finger.  Such  is  my  opinion,  and  it  pleases 
me  to  retain  and  rejoice  my  memory  with  things  that  I 
have  seen. 

Epitaph  on  the  said  Queen. 

"  Beneath  this  stone  lies  Elisabeth  of  France  : 
Who  was  Qu.een  of  Spain  and  queen  of  peace, 
Christian  and  Catholic.     Iler  lovely  presence 
Was  useful  to  us  all.     Now  that  her  noble  bones 
Are  dry  and  crumbling,  lying  under  ground, 
We  have  nought  but  ills  and  wars  and  troubles." 


DISCOURSE  V. 

MARGUERITE,  QUEEN  OF  FRANCE  AND  OF  NAVARRE, 

SOLE  DAUGHTER  NOW  REMAINING  OF  THE  NOBLE 

HOUSE  OF  FRANCE.i 

When  I  consider  the  miseries  and  ill-adventures  of  that 
beautiful  Queen  of  Scotland  of  whom  I  have  heretofore 
spoken,  and  of  other  princesses  and  ladies  whom  I  shall  not 
name,  fearing  by  such  digression  to  impair  my  discourse  on 
the  Queen  of  Navarre,  of  whom  I  now  speak,  not  being  as 
yet  Queen  of  France,  I  cannot  think  otherwise  than  that 
Fortune,  omnipotent  goddess  of  weal  and  woe,  is  the  opposing 
enemy  of  human  beauty  ;  for  if  ever  there  was  in  the  world  a 
being  of  perfect  beauty  it  is  the  Queen  of  Navarre,  and  yet 
she  has  been  little  favoured  by  Fortune,  so  far ;  so  that  one 
may  indeed  say  that  Fortune  was  so  jealous  of  Nature  for 
having  made  this  princess  beautiful  that  she  wished  to  run 
counter  in  fate.  However  that  may  be,  her  beauty  is  sucli 
that  the  blows  of  said  Fortune  have  no  ascendency  upon  her, 
for  the  generous  courage  she  drew  at  birth  from  so  many 
brave  and  valorous  kings,  her  father,  grandfather,  great- 
grandfather, and  their  ancestors,  has  enabled  her  hitherto  to 
make  a  brave  resistance. 

To  speak  now  of  the  beauty  of  this  rare  princess  :  T  think 
that  all  those  who  are,  will  be,  or  ever  have  l:)een  Ijeside  it 
are  plain,  and  cannot  have  beauty;  for  the  fire  of  licrs  so 
burns  the  wings  of  others  that  they  dare  not  hover,  or  even 

1  Daughter  of  Ht'iiri  II.  and  Catherine  de'  Medici, —  "La  Reine 
Margot."  —  Tk. 


MARGUERITE   OF   FRANCE   AND   NAVARRE.  153 

appear,  around  it.  If  there  be  any  unbeliever  so  chary  of 
faith  as  not  to  give  credence  to  the  miracles  of  God  and 
Nature,  let  him  contemplate  her  fine  face,  so  nobly  formed, 
and  become  converted,  and  say  that  Mother  Nature,  that 
perfect  workwoman,  has  put  all  her  rarest  and  subtlest  w^its 
to  the  making  of  her.  For  whether  she  shows  herself  smil- 
ing or  grave,  the  sight  of  her  serves  to  enkindle  every  one ; 
so  beauteous  are  her  features,  so  well  defined  her  lineaments, 
so  transparent  and  agreeable  her  eyes  that  they  pass  descrip- 
tion ;  and,  what  is  more,  that  beautiful  face  rests  on  a  body 
still  more  beautiful,  superb,  and  rich,  —  of  a  port  and  majesty 
more  like  to  a  goddess  of  heaven  than  a  princess  of  earth ; 
for  it  is  believed,  on  the  word  of  several,  that  no  goddess  was 
ever  seen  more  beautiful ;  so  that,  in  order  to  duly  proclaim 
her  beauty,  virtues,  and  merit,  God  must  lengthen  the  earth 
and  heighten  the  sky  beyond  where  they  now  are,  for  space 
in  the  airs  and  on  tlie  land  is  lacking  for  the  flight  of  her 
perfection  and  renown. 

Those  are  the  beauties  of  body  and  mind  in  this  fair  prin- 
cess, which  I  at  this  time  represent,  like  a  good  painter, 
after  nature  and  without  art.  I  speak  of  those  to  be  seen 
externally  ;  for  those  that  are  secret  and  hidden  beneath 
white  linen  and  rich  accoutrements  cannot  be  here  depicted 
or  judged  except  as  being  very  beautiful  and  rare ;  but  this 
must  be  by  faith,  presumption,  and  credence,  for  sight  is 
interdicted.  Great  hardship  truly  to  be  forced  to  see  so 
beautiful  a  picture,  made  by  the  hand  of  a  divine  workman, 
in  the  half  only  of  its  perfection ;  but  modesty  and  laudable 
shamefacedness  thus  ordain  it  —  for  they  lodge  among  prin- 
cesses and  great  ladies  as  they  do  among  commoner  folk. 

To  bring  a  few  examples  to  show  how  the  beauty  of  this 
queen  was  admired  and  held  for  rare  :  I  remember  that  when 
the  Polish  ambassadors  came  to  France,  to  announce  to  our 


154  THE   BOOK  OF  THE   LADIES. 

King  Henri  [then  Due  d'Anjou]  his  election  to  the  kingdom 
of  Poland,  and  to  render  him  homage  and  obedience,  alter 
they  had  made  their  reverence  to  King  Charles,  to  the  queen- 
mother,  and  to  their  king,  they  made  it,  very  particularly, 
and  for  several  days,  to  Monsieur,  and  to  the  King  and  Queen 
of  Navarre ;  but  the  day  when  they  made  it  to  the  said 
Queen  of  Navarre  she  seemed  to  them  so  beautiful  and  so 
superbly  and  richly  accoutred  and  adorned,  and  with  such 
great  majesty  and  grace  that  they  were  speechless  at  such 
beauty.  Among  others,  there  was  Lasqui,  the  chief  of  the 
embassy,  whom  I  heard  say,  as  he  retired,  overcome  by  the 
sight :  "  No,  never  do  I  wish  to  see  such  beauty  again.  Will- 
ingly would  I  do  as  do  the  Turks,  pilgrims  to  Mecca,  where 
the  sepulchre  of  their  prophet  Mahomet  is,  and  where  they 
stand  speechless,  ravished,  and  so  transfixed  at  the  sight  of 
that  superb  mosque  that  they  wish  to  see  nothing  more  and 
burn  their  eyes  out  with  hot  irons  till  they  lose  their  sight, 
so  subtly  is  it  done ;  saying  that  nothing  more  could  be  seen 
as  fine,  and  therefore  would  they  see  nothing."  Thus  said 
that  Pole  about  the  beauty  of  our  princess.  And  if  the  Poles 
were  won  to  admiration,  so  were  others.  I  instance  here 
Don  Juan  of  Austria,  who  (as  I  have  said  elsewhere),  pass- 
ing through  Prance  as  stilly  as  he  could,  and  reaching  Paris, 
knowing  that  that  night  a  solemn  ball  was  given  at  the 
Louvre,  went  there  disguised,  as  much  to  see  Queen  Mar- 
guerite of  Navarre  as  for  any  other  purpose.  He  there  had 
means  and  leisure  to  see  her  at  his  ease,  dancing,  and  led  by 
the  king,  her  brother,  as  was  usual.  He  gazed  upon  lier  long, 
admired  her,  and  then  proclaimed  her  high  above  the  beauties 
of  Spain  and  Italy  (two  regions,  nevertheless,  most  fertile  in 
beauty),  saying  these  words  in  Spanish :  "  Thov?gh  the  beauty 
of  that  queen  is  more  divine  than  human,  she  is  made  to  damn 
and  ruin  men  rather  than  to  save  them." 


MARGUERITE  OF  FRANCE  AND  NAVARRE.     155 

Shortly  after,  he  saw  her  again  as  she  went  to  the  baths  of 
Lifege,  Don  Juan  being  then  at  Namur,  where  she  had  to 
pass ;  tlie  which  crowned  all  his  hopes  to  enjoy  so  fine  a 
sight,  and  he  went  to  meet  her  with  great  and  splendid 
Spanish  magnificence,  receiving  her  as  though  she  were  the 
Queen  Elisabeth,  her  sister,  in  the  latter's  lifetime  his  queen, 
and  Queen  of  Spain.  And  though  he  was  most  enchanted 
with  the  beauty  of  her  body,  he  was  the  same  with  that  of 
her  mind,  as  I  hope  to  show  in  its  proper  place.  But  it  was 
not  Don  Juan  alone  who  praised  and  delighted  to  praise  her, 
but  all  his  great  and  brave  Spanish  captains  did  the  same, 
and  even  the  very  soldiers  of  those  far-famed  bands,  who 
went  about  saying  among  themselves,  in  soldierly  chorus, 
that  "  the  conquest  of  such  beauty  was  better  than  that  of  a 
kingdom,  and  happy  would  be  the  soldiers  who,  to  serve  her, 
would  die  beneath  her  banner." 

It  is  not  surprising  that  such  people,  well-born  and  noble, 
should  think  this  princess  beautiful,  but  I  have  seen  Turks 
coming  on  an  embassy  to  the  king  her  brother,  barbarians 
that  they  were,  lose  themselves  in  gazing  at  her,  and  say 
that  the  pomp  of  their  Grand  Signior  in  going  to  his  mosque 
or  marching  with  his  army  was  not  so  fine  to  see  as  the 
beauty  of  this  queen. 

In  short,  I  have  seen  an  infinity  of  other  strangers  who 
have  come  to  France  and  to  the  Court  expressly  to  behold 
her  whose  fame  had  gone  from  end  to  end  of  Europe,  so  they 
said. 

I  once  saw  a  gallant  ISTeapolitan  knight,  who,  having  come 
to  Paris  and  the  Court,  and  not  finding  the  said  queen,  de- 
layed his  return  two  months  in  order  to  see  her,  and  having 
seen  her  he  said  these  words  :  "  In  other  days,  the  Princess 
of  Salerno  bore  the  like  reputation  for  beauty  in  our  city  of 
Naples,  so  that  a  foreigner  who  had  gone  there  and  had  not 


156  THE   BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

seen  her,  when  he  returned  and  related  his  visit,  and  was 
asked  had  he  seen  that  princess,  and  answered  no,  was 
told  that  in  that  case  he  had  not  seen  Naples.  Thus 
I,  if  on  my  return  without  seeing  this  beautiful  princess 
I  were  asked  had  I  seen  Prance  and  the  Court,  could 
scarcely  say  I  had,  for  she  is  its  ornament  and  enrichment. 
But  now,  having  seen  and  contemplated  her  so  well,  I  can 
say  that  I  have  seen  the  greatest  beauty  in  the  world,  and 
that  our  Princess  of  Salerno  is  as  nothing  to  her.  Now  I 
am  well  content  to  go,  having  enjoyed  so  fine  a  sight.  1 
leave  you  Prenchmen  to  think  how  happy  you  should  be 
to  see  at  your  ease  and  daily  her  fine  face ;  and  to  approach 
that  flame  divine,  which  can  w^arni  and  kindle  frigid  hearts 
from  afar  more  than  the  beauty  of  our  most  beauteous 
dames  near-by."  Such  were  the  words  said  to  me  one  day 
by  that  charming  Neapolitan  knight. 

An  honourable  Prench  gentleman,  whom  I  could  name, 
seeing  her  one  evening,  in  her  finest  lustre  and  most  stately 
majesty  in  a  ball-room,  said  to  me  these  words  :  "  Ah  !  if 
the  Sieur  des  Essarts,  who,  in  his  books  of  '  Amadis '  forced 
himself  with  such  pains  to  well  ajid  richly  describe  to  the 
world  the  beautiful  Nicquee  and  her  glory,  had  seen  this 
queen  in  his  day  he  would  not  have  needed  to  borrow  so 
many  rich  and  noble  words  to  depict  and  set  forth  Nicqude's 
beauty ;  't  would  have  sufficed  him  to  declare  she  was  the 
semblance  and  image  of  the  Queen  of  Navarre,  unique  in 
this  world  ;  and  thus  the  beauteous  Nicquee  would  have 
been  better  pictured  than  she  has  been,  and  without 
superfluity  of  words." 

Therefore,  'M.  de  Pionsard  had  good  reason  to  compose 
that  glorious  elegy  found  among  his  works  in  honour  of 
this  beautiful  Princess  Marguerite  of  Prance,  then  not  mar- 
ried, in  which  he  has  introduced  the  goddess  Venus  askin^r 


MARGUERITE  OF  FRANCE   AND  NAVARRE.  157 

her  son  whether  in  his  rambles  here  below,  seeing  the  ladies 
of  the  Court  of  France,  he  had  found  a  beauty  that  sur- 
passed her  own.  "  Yes,  mother,"  Love  replied,  "  I  have  found 
one  on  whom  the  glory  of  the  finest  sky  is  shed  since  ever 
she  was  born."  Venus  flushed  red  and  would  not  credit  it, 
but  sent  a  messenger,  one  of  her  Charites,  to  earth  to  ex- 
amine that  beauty  and  make  a  just  report.  On  which  Vv^e 
read  in  the  elegy  a  rich  and  fine  description  of  the  charms 
of  that  accomplished  princess,  in  the  mouth  of  the  Charite 
Pasithea,  the  reading  of  which  cannot  fail  to  please  the 
world.  But  M.  de  Konsard,  as  a  very  honourable  and  able 
lady  said  to  me,  stopped  short  and  lacked  a  little  sometliing, 
in  that  he  should  have  told  how  Pasithea  returned  to 
heaven,  and  there,  discharging  her  commission,  said  to  Venus 
that  her  son  had  only  told  the  half ;  the  which  so  saddened 
and  provolvcd  the  goddess  into  jealousy,  making  her  blame 
Jupiter  for  the  wrong  he  did  to  form  on  earth  a  beauty  that 
shamed  those  of  heaven  (and  principally  hers,  the  rarest  of 
them  all),  that  henceforth  she  wore  mourning  and  made  ab- 
stinence from  pleasures  and  delights ;  for  there  is  nothing 
so  vexatious  to  a  beautiful  and  perfect  lady  as  to  tell  her 
she  has  her  equal,  or  that  another  can  surpass  her. 

Now,  we  must  note  that  if  our  queen  was  beauteous  in 
herself  and  in  her  nature,  also  she  knew  well  how  to  array 
herself;  and  so  carefully  and  richly  was  she  dressed,  both 
for  her  body  and  her  head,  that  nothing  lacked  to  give  her 
full  perfection. 

To  the  Queen  Isabella  of  Bavaria,  wife  of  King  Charles  VI., 
belongs  the  praise  of  having  brought  to  France  the  pomps 
and  gorgeousness  that  henceforth  clothed  most  splendidly 
and  gorgeously  the  ladies ;  ^  for  in  the  old  tapestries  of  that 

1  Brantome's  words  are  gnrgiasatcs  and  gorgiasment ;  do  they  mark  tlie 
introduction  of  ruffs  around  the  neck,  gorge  ?  — Tk. 


158  JilE  BOOK  OF  TIIE  LADIES. 

period  iu  the  houses  of  our  kings  we  see  portrayed  the 
ladies  attired  as  they  then  were,  in  nought  but  drolleries, 
slovenliness,  and  vulgarities,  in  place  of  the  beautiful,  superb 
fashions,  dainty  headgear,  inventions,  and  ornaments  of 
our  queen  ;  from  which  the  ladies  of  the  Court  and  Trance 
take  pattern,  so  that  ever  since,  appearing  in  her  modes, 
they  are  now  great  ladies  instead  of  simple  madams,  and  so 
a  hundredfold  more  charming  and  desirable.  It  is  to  our 
Queen  Marguerite  that  ladies  owe  this  obligation. 

I  remember  (for  I  was  there)  that  when  the  queen  mother 
took  this  queen,  her  daughter,  to  the  King  of  Xavarre,  her 
husband,  she  passed  through  Coignac  and  made  some  st;.y. 
While  they  were  there,  came  various  grand  and  honouraljle 
ladies  of  the  region  to  see  them  and  do  them  reverence,  who 
were  all  amazed  at  the  beauty  of  the  princess,  and  could  not 
surfeit  themselves  in  praising  her  to  her  mother,  she  being  lost 
in  joy.  "Wherefore  she  begged  her  daughter  to  array  herself 
one  day  most  gorgeously  in  the  fine  and  superb  apparel  that 
she  wore  at  Court  for  great  and  magnificent  pomps  and 
festivals,  in  order  to  give  pleasure  to  these  worthy  dames. 
"WTiich  she  did,  to  obey  so  good  a  mother ;  appearing  robed 
superbly  in  a  gown  of  silver  tissue  and  dove-colour,  a  la 
holonnoise  [houillomice  —  with  puffs?],  and  hanging  sleeves, 
a  rich  head-dress  with  a  white  veil,  neither  too  large  nor  yet 
too  small ;  the  whole  accompanied  with  so  noble  a  majesty 
and  good  grace  that  she  seemed  more  a  goddess  of  lieaven 
than  a  queen  of  earth.  The  queen-mother  said  to  her: 
"My  daughter,  you  look  well."  To  which  she  answered: 
"  Madame,  I  begin  early  to  wear  and  to  wear  out  my  gowns 
and  the  fashions  I  have  brought  from  Court,  because  when 
I  return  I  shall  bring  notliing  with  me  only  sci.sors  and 
stuffs  to  dress  me  then  according  to  current  fashions."  The 
queen-mother  asked  her :  "  What  do  you  mean  by  that,  my 


MARGUERITE  OF  FRANCE  AND  NAVARRE.  159 

daughter  ?  Is  it  not  you  yourself  who  invent  and  produce 
these  iasliions  of  dress  ?  Wherever  you  go  the  Court  will 
take  them  from  you.,  not  you  from  the  Court."  Which 
was  true ;  for  after  she  returned  she  was  always  in  advance 
of  the  Court,  so  well  did  she  know  how  to  invent  in  her 
dumty  mind  all  sorts  of  charming  things. 

But  the  Leauteous  queen  in  whatsoever  fashion  she 
dressed,  were  it  db  la  franmise  with  her  tall  head-dress,  or  in 
a  simple  coif,  with  her  grand  veil,  or  merely  in  a  cap,  could 
never  prove  which  of  these  fasliions  became  her  most  and 
made  her  most  beautiful,  admirable,  and  lovable ;  for  she 
well  knew  how  to  adapt  herself  to  every  mode,  adjusting 
each  new  device  in  a  way  not  common  and  quite  inimitable. 
So  that  if  other  ladies  took  her  pattern  to  form  it  for  them- 
selves they  could  not  rival  her,  as  I  have  noticed  a  hundred 
times.  I  have  seen  her  dressed  in  a  robe  of  white  satin  that 
shimmered  much,  a  trifle  of  rose-colour  minghug  in  it,  with 
a  veil  of  tan  crfpe  or  Roman  gauze  flung  carelessly  round  her 
head ;  yet  nothing  was  ever  more  beautiful ;  and  whatever 
may  be  said  of  the  goddesses  of  the  olden  time  and  the  em- 
presses as  we  see  them  on  ancient  coins,  they  look,  though 
splendidly  accoutred,  like  chambermaids  beside  her. 

I  have  often  heard  our  courtiers  dispute  as  to  which  attire 
became  and  embellished  her  the  most,  about  wdiich  each  had 
his  own  opinion.  For  my  part,  the  most  becoming  array  in 
which  I  ever  saw  her  was,  as  I  think,  and  so  did  others,  on 
the  day  when  the  queen-mother  made  a  fete  at  the  Tuileries 
for  the  Poles.  She  was  robed  in  a  velvet  gown  of  Spanish 
rose,  covered  with  spangles,  with  a  cap  of  the  same  velvet, 
adorned  with  plumes  and  jewels  of  such  splendour  as  never 
was.  She  looked  so  beautiful  in  this  attire,  as  many  told 
her,  that  she  wore  it  orten  and  was  painted  in  it ;  so  that 
among  her  various  portraits  this  one  carries  the  day  over  all 


160  THE   BOOK   OF   THE   LADIES. 

others,  as  the  eyes  of  good  judges  will  tell,  for  there  are 
plenty  of  her  pictures  to  judge  by. 

When  she  appeared,  thus  dressed,  at  the  Tuileries,  I  said 
to  M.  de  lionsard,  who  stood  next  to  me  :  "  Tell  the  truth, 
monsieur,  do  you  not  think  that  beautiful  queen  thus  appar- 
elled is  like  Aurora,  as  she  comes  at  dawn  with  her  fair  white 
face  surrounded  with  those  rosy  tints  ?  —  for  face  and  gown 
have  much  in  sympathy  and  likeness."  M.  de  Eonsard 
avowed  that  I  was  right ;  and  on  this  my  comparison,  think- 
ing it  fine,  he  made  a  sonnet,  which  I  would  fain  have  now, 
to  insert  it  here. 

I  also  saw  this  our  great  queen  at  the  first  States-general 
at  Blois  on  the  day  the  king,  her  brother,  made  his  harangue. 
She  was  dressed  in  a  robe  of  orange  and  black  (the  ground 
being  black  with  many  spangles)  and  her  great  veil  of  cere- 
mony ;  and  being  seated  according  to  her  rank  she  appeared 
so  beautiful  and  admirable  that  I  heard  more  than  tliree 
hundred  persons  in  that  assembly  say  tliey  were  better  in- 
structed and  delighted  by  the  contemplation  of  such  divine 
beauty  than  by  listening  to  the  grave  and  noble  words  of  the 
king,  her  brother,  though  he  spoke  and  harangued  his  be«t. 
I  have  also  seen  her  dressed  in  her  natural  hair  without  any 
artifice  or  peruke ;  and  though  her  hair  was  very  black 
(having  derived  that  from  her  father,  King  Henri),  slie  knew 
so  well  how  to  curl  and  twist  and  arrange  it  after  the  fashion 
of  her  sister,  the  Queen  of  Spain,  who  wore  none  but  her  own 
hair,  that  such  coiffure  and  adornment  became  her  as  well  as, 
or  better  than,  any  other.  That  is  what  it  is  to  have  beauties 
by  nature,  which  surpasses  all  artifice,  no  matter  what  it  may 
be.  And  yet  she  did  not  Hke  the  fashion  much  and  seldom 
used  it,  but  preferred  perukes  most  daintily  fashioned. 

In  short,  I  should  never  have  done  did  I  try  to  describe  all 
her  adornments  and  forms  of  attire  in  which  she  was  ever 


MARGUERITE  OE  FRANCE  AND  NAVARRE.     161 

more  and  more  beauteous ;  for  she  changed  them  often,  and 
all  were  so  becoming  and  appropriate,  as  though  Nature  and 
Art  were  striving  to  outdo  each  other  in  making  her  beautiful. 
But  this  is  not  all ;  for  her  fine  accoutrements  and  adornments 
never  ventured  to  cover  her  beautiful  throat  or  her  lovely 
bosom,  fearing  to  wrong  the  eyes  of  all  the  world  that  roved 
upon  so  fine  an  object ;  for  never  was  there  seen  the  like  in 
form  and  whiteness,  and  so  full  and  plump  that  often  the 
courtiers  died  with  envy  when  they  saw  the  ladies,  as  I  have 
seen  them,  those  who  were  her  intimates,  have  license  to  kiss 
her  with  great  delight. 

I  remember  that  a  worthy  gentleman,  newly  arrived  at 
Court,  who  had  never  seen  her,  when  he  beheld  her  said  to 
me  these  words  :  "  I  am  not  surprised  that  all  you  gentlemen 
should  like  the  Court;  for  if  you  had  no  other  pleasure  than 
daily  to  see  that  princess,  you  have  as  much  as  though  you 
lived  in  a  terrestrial  paradise." 

Eoman  emperors  of  the  olden  time,  to  please  the  people 
and  give  them  pleasure,  exhibited  games  and  combats  in 
their  theatres  ;  but  to  give  pleasure  to  the  people  of  France 
and  gain  their  friendship,  it  was  enough  to  let  them  often  see 
Queen  Marguerite,  and  enjoy  the  contemplation  of  so  divine 
a  face,  which  she  never  hid  behind  a  mask  like  other  ladies 
of  our  Court,  for  nearly  all  the  time  she  went  uncovered ; 
and  once,  on  a  flowery  Easter  Day  at  Blois,  still  being 
Madame,  sister  of  the  king  (although  her  marriage  was  then 
being  treated  of),  I  saw  her  appear  in  the  procession  more 
beautiful  than  ever,  because,  besides  the  beauty  of  her  face 
and  form,  she  was  most  superbly  adorned  and  apparelled ;  her 
pure  white  face,  resembling  the  skies  in  their  serenity,  was 
adorned  about  the  head  with  quantities  of  pearls  and  jewels, 
especially  brilliant  diamonds,  worn  in  the  form  of  stars,  so 
that  the  calm  of  the  face  and  the  sparkling  jewels  made  one 

11 


162  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

think  of  the  heavens  when  starry.  Her  beautiful  body  with 
its  full,  tall  form  was  robed  in  a  gown  of  crinkled  cloth  of 
gold,  the  richest  and  most  beautiful  ever  seen  in  France, 
This  stuff  was  a  gift  made  by  the  Grand  Signior  to  M.  de 
Grand-Champ,  our  ambassador,  on  his  departure  from  Con- 
stantinople, —  it  being  the  Grand  Siguier's  custom  to  present 
to  those  who  are  sent  to  him  a  piece  of  the  said  stuff 
amounting  to  fifteen  ells,  which,  so  Grand-Champ  told  me, 
cost  one  hundred  crowns  the  ell ;  for  it  was  indeed  a  master- 
piece. He,  on  coming  to  France  and  not  knowing  how  to 
employ  more  worthily  the  gift  of  so  rich  a  stuff,  gave  it  to 
Madame,  the  sister  of  the  king,  who  made  a  gown  of  it,  and 
wore  it  first  on  the  said  occasion,  when  it  became  her  well  — 
for  from  one  grandeur  to  another  there  is  only  a  hand's 
breadth.  She  wore  it  all  that  day,  although  its  weight  was 
heavy ;  but  her  beautiful,  rich,  strong  figure  supported  it  well 
and  served  it  to  advantage  ;  for  had  she  been  a  little  shrimp 
of  a  princess,  or  a  dame  only  elbow-high  (as  I  have  seen 
some),  she  would  surely  have  died  of  the  weight,  or  else 
have  been  forced  to  change  her  gown  and  take  another. 

That  is  not  all :  being  in  tlie  procession  and  walking  in 
her  rank,  her  visage  uncovered,  not  to  deprive  the  people  of 
so  good  a  feast,  she  seemed  more  beautiful  still  by  holding 
and  bearing  in  her  hand  her  palm  (as  our  queens  of  all  time 
have  done)  with  royal  majesty  and  a  grace  half  proud  half 
sweet,  and  a  manner  little  common  and  so  different  from 
all  the  rest  that  whoso  had  seen  her  would  have  said: 
"  Here  is  a  princess  who  goes  above  the  run  of  all  things  in 
the  world."  And  we  courtiers  went  about  saying,  with  one 
voice  boldly,  that  she  did  well  to  bear  a  palm  in  her  hand, 
for  she  bore  it  away  from  others;  surpassing  them  all  in 
beauty,  in  grace,  and  in  perfection.  And  I  swear  to  you 
that  in  that  procession  we  forgot  our  devotions,  and  did  not 


MARGUERITE  OF  FRANCE  AND  NAVARRE.     103 

make  tliem  while  contemplating  and  admiring  that  divine 
princess,  who  ravished  lis  more  than  divine  service ;  and  yet 
we  thought  we  committed  no  sin ;  for  whoso  contemplates 
divinity  on  earth  does  not  offend  the  divinity  of  heaven ; 
inasmuch  as  He  made  lier  such. 

"When  the  queen,  her  mother,  took  her  from  Court 
to  meet  her  hushand  in  Gascoigne,  I  saw  how  all  the 
courtiers  grieved  at  her  departure  as  though  a  great 
calamity  had  fallen  on  their  heads.  Some  said :  "  The 
Court  is  widowed  of  her  beauty ; "  others :  "  The  Court 
is  gloomy,  it  has  lost  its  sun ; "  others  again :  "  How  dark 
it  is ;  we  have  no  torch."  And  some  cried  out :  "  Why 
should  Gascoime  come  here  jrascoiojninf:'  to  steal  our 
beauty,  destined  to  adorn  all  France  and  the  Court,  Fon- 
tainebleau,  Saint-Germain,  the  hotel  du  Louvre,  and  all  the 
other  noble  places  of  our  kings,  to  lodge  her  at  Pau  and 
X^rac,  places  so  unlike  the  others  ?  "  But  many  said :  "  The 
deed  is  done ;  the  Court  and  France  have  lost  the  loveliest 
flower  of  their  garland." 

In  short,  on  all  sides  did  we  hear  resound  sucli  little 
speeches  upon  this  departure,  —  half  in  vexed  anger,  half  in 
sadness,  ■ — ■  although  Queen  Louise  de  Lorraine  remained 
behind,  who  was  a  very  handsome  and  wise  princess,  and 
virtuous  (of  whom  I  hope  to  speak  more  worthily  in  her 
place) ;  but  for  so  long  the  Court  had  been  accustomed  to 
that  beauteous  sight  it  could  not  keep  from  grieving  and 
proffering  such  words.  Some  there  were  who  would  have 
liked  to  kill  ]\I.  de  Duras,  who  came  from  his  master  the 
King  of  Navarre  to  obtain  her;  and  this  I  know. 

Once  there  came  news  to  Court  that  she  was  dead  in 
An^'ergne  some  eight  days.  On  which  a  person  whom  I 
met  said  to  me :  "  That  cannot  be,  for  since  that  time  the 
sky  is  clear  and  fine;   if  she   were  dead    we   should   have 


164  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

seen  eclipse  of  sun,  because  of  the  great  sympathy  two  suns 
must  have,  and  nothing  could  be  seen  but  gloom  and 
clouds." 

Enough  has  now  been  said,  methinks,  upon  the  beauty  of 
her  body,  though  the  subject  is  so  ample  that  it  deserves  a 
decade.  I  hope  to  speak  of  it  again,  but  at  present  I  must 
say  something  of  her  noble  soul,  which  is  lodged  so  well  in 
that  noble  body.  If  it  was  born  thus  noble  within  her  she 
has  known  how  to  keep  it  and  maintain  it  so ;  for  she  loves 
letters  much  and  reading.  "While  young,  she  was,  for  her 
age,  quite  perfect  in  them ;  so  that  we  could  say  of  her : 
This  princess  is  truly  the  most  eloquent  and  best-speaking 
lady  in  the  world,  with  the  finest  style  of  speech  and  the 
most  agreeable  to  be  found.  "When  the  Poles,  as  I  have 
said  before,  came  to  do  her  reverence  they  brought  with 
them  the  Bishop  of  Cracovie,  the  chief  and  head  of  the 
embassy,  who  made  the  harangue  in  Latin,  he  being  a 
learned  and  accomplished  prelate.  The  queen  replied  so 
pertinently  and  eloquently  without  the  help  of  an  interpreter, 
having  well  understood  and  comprehended  the  harangue, 
that  all  were  struck  with  admiration,  calling  her  with  one 
voice  a  second  Minerva,  goddess  of  eloquence. 

"When  the  queen  her  mother  took  her  to  the  king  her 
husband,  as  I  have  said,  she  made  her  entry  to  Bordeaux, 
as  was  proper,  being  daughter  and  sister  of  a  king,  and  wife 
of  the  King  of  Xavarre,  first  prince  of  the  blood,  and  gov- 
ernor of  Guyenne.  The  queen  her  mother  willed  it  so,  for 
she  loved  and  esteemed  her  much.  This  entry  was  fine ; 
not  so  much  for  the  sumptuous  magnificence  there  made 
and  displayed,  as  for  the  triumph  of  this  most  beautiful 
and  accomplished  queen  of  the  world,  mounted  on  a  fine 
wdiite  horse  superbly  caparisoned ;  she  herself  dressed  all  in 
orange  and  spangles,  so  sumptuously  as  never  was  ;  so  that 


MARGUERITE  OF  FRANCE  AND  NAVARRE.    165 

none  could  get  their  surfeit  of  looking  at  her,  admiring  and 
lauding  her  to  the  skies. 

Before  she  entered,  the  State  assembly  of  the  town  came 
to  do  reverence  and  offer  their  means  and  powers,  and  to 
harangue  her  at  the  Chartreux,  as  is  customary.  M.  de 
Bordeaux  [tlie  bishop]  spoke  for  the  clergy ;  M.  le  Marechal 
de  Biron,  as  mayor,  wearing  his  robes  of  office,  for  the  town, 
and  for  himself  as  lieutenant-general  afterwards  ;  also  M. 
Largebaston,  chief  president  for  the  courts  of  law.  She 
answered  them  all,  one  after  the  other  (for  I  heard  her,  be- 
ing close  beside  her  on  the  scaffold,  by  her  command),  so 
eloquently,  so  wisely  and  promptly  and  with  such  grace 
and  majesty,  even  changing  her  words  to  each,  without 
reiterating  the  first  or  the  second,  although  upon  the  same 
subject  (which  is  a  thing  to  be  remarked  upon),  that 
when  I  saw  that  evening  the  said  president  he  said  to  me, 
and  to  others  in  the  queen's  chamber,  that  he  had  never 
in  his  life  heard  better  speech  from  any  one  ;  and  that  he 
imderstood  such  matters,  having  had  the  honour  to  hear  the 
two  queens.  Marguerite  and  Jeanne,  her  predecessors,  speak 
at  the  like  ceremonies,  —  they  having  had  in  their  day  the 
most  golden-speaking  lips  in  France  (those  were  the  words  he 
used  to  me) ;  and  yet  they  were  but  novices  and  apprentices 
compared  to  her,  who  truly  was  her  mother's  daughter. 

I  repeated  to  the  queen,  her  mother,  this  that  the  presi- 
dent had  said  to  me,  of  which  she  was  glad  as  never  was ; 
and  told  me  that  he  had  reason  to  think  and  say  so,  for, 
though  she  was  her  daughter,  she  could  call  her,  without 
falsehood,  the  most  accomplished  princess  in  the  world,  able 
to  say  exactly  what  she  wished  to  say  the  best.  And  in  like 
manner  I  have  heard  and  seen  ambassadors,  and  sreat  for- 
eign  seigneurs,  after  they  had  spoken  with  her,  depart  con* 
founded  by  her  noble  speech. 


166  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

I  have  often  heard  her  make  such  fine  discourse,  so  grave 
and  so  sententious,  that  could  I  put  it  clearly  and  correctly 
here  in  writing  I  should  delight  and  amaze  the  world ;  but 
it  is  not  possible ;  nor  could  any  one  transcribe  her  words,  so 
inimitable  are  they. 

But  if  she  is  grave,  and  full  of  majesty  and  eloquence  in 
her  high  and  serious  discourses,  she  is  just  as  full  of  charm- 
ing grace  in  gay  and  witty  speech ;  jesting  so  prettily,  with 
give  and  take,  that  her  company  is  most  agreeable ;  for, 
though  she  pricks  and  banters  others,  'tis  all  so  dt  -propos  and 
excellently  said  that  no  one  can  be  vexed,  but  only  glad  of  it. 

But  further :  if  she  knows  how  to  speak,  she  knows  also 
how  to  write  ;  and  the  beautiful  letters  we  have  seen  from 
her  attest  it.  They  are  the  finest,  the  best  couched,  whether 
they  be  serious  or  familiar,  and  such  that  the  greatest  writers 
of  the  past  and  present  may  hide  their  heads  and  not  pro- 
duce their  own  when  hers  appear ;  for  theirs  are  trifles  near 
to  hers.  No  one,  having  read  them,  would  fail  to  laugh 
at  Cicero  with  his  familiar  letters.  And  whoso  would  collect 
Queen  Marguerite's  letters,  together  with  her  discourses,  would 
make  a  school  and  training  for  the  world  ;  and  no  one  should 
feel  surprised  at  this,  for,  in  herself,  her  mind  is  sound  and 
quick,  with  great  information,  wise  and  solid.  She  is  a 
queen  in  all  things,  and  deserves  to  rule  a  mighty  kingdom, 
even  an  empire,  —  about  wliich  T  shall  make  the  following 
digression,  all  the  more  because  it  has  to  do  with  the  present 
subject. 

When  her  marriage  was  granted  at  Blois  to  the  King  of 
Navarre,  difficulties  were  made  by  Queen  Jeanne  [d'Albret, 
Henri  IV.'s  mother],  very  different  then  from  what  she  M^rote 
to  my  mother,  who  was  her  lady  of  honour,  and  at  this  time 
sick  m  her  own  house.  I  have  read  the  letter,  writ  by  her 
own  hand,  in  the  archives  of  our  house  ;  it  savs  thus  :  — 


MARGUERITE  OF  FRANCE  AND  NAVARRE.     167 

"  I  write  you  this,  my  great  friend,  to  rejoice  and  give  you 
health  with  the  good  news  my  husband  sends  me.  He  hav- 
ing had  the  boldness  to  ask  of  the  king  Madame,  his  young 
daughter,  for  our  son,  the  king  has  done  him  the  honour  to 
grant  it ;  for  which  I  cannot  tell  you  the  happiness  I  have." 

There  is  much  to  be  said  thereon.  At  this  time  there  was 
at  our  Court  a  lady  whom  I  shall  not  name,  as  silly  as  she 
could  be.  Being  with  the  queen-mother  one  evening  at  her 
coucher,  the  queen  inquired  of  her  ladies  if  they  had  seen  her 
daughter,  and  whether  she  seemed  joyful  at  the  granting  of 
her  marriage.  This  silly  lady,  who  did  not  yet  know  her 
Court,  answered  first  and  said :  "  How,  madame,  should  she 
not  be  joyful  at  such  a  marriage,  inasmuch  as  it  will  lead  to 
the  crown  and  make  her  some  day  Queen  of  France,  when  it 
falls  to  her  future  husband,  as  it  well  may  do  in  time."  The 
queen,  hearing  so  strange  a  speech,  replied  :  "  3Ia  mie,  you  are 
a  great  fool.  I  would  rather  die  a  thousand  deaths  than  see 
your  foolish  prophecy  accomplished ;  for  I  hope  and  wish 
long  life  and  good  prosperity  to  the  king,  my  son,  and  all  my 
other  children."  On  which  a  very  great  lady,  one  of  her 
intimates,  inquired :  "  But,  madame,  in  case  that  great  mis- 
fortune —  from  which  God  keep  us  !  —  happens,  would  you 
not  be  very  glad  to  see  your  daughter  Queen  of  France,  inas- 
much as  the  crown  would  fall  to  her  by  right  through  that 
of  her  husband  ? "  To  which  the  queen  made  answer : 
"  Much  as  I  love  this  daughter,  I  think,  if  that  should  hap- 
pen, we  should  see  France  much  tried  with  evils  and  misfor- 
tunes. I  would  rather  die  (as  she  did  in  fact)  than  see  her 
in  that  position  ;  for  I  do  not  believe  that  France  would  obey 
the  King  of  Navarre  as  it  does  my  sons,  for  many  reasons 
which  I  do  not  tell." 

Behold  two  prophecies  accomplished :  one,  that  of  the  fool- 
ish lady,  the  other,  but  only  till  her  death,  that  of  the  able 


168  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

princess.  The  latter  prophecy  has  failed  to-day,  by  the  grace 
which  God  has  given  our  king  [Henri  IV.],  and  by  the  force 
of  his  good  sword  and  the  valour  of  his  brave  heart,  which  have 
made  him  so  great,  so  victorious,  so  feared,  and  so  absolute 
a  king  as  he  is  to-day  after  too  many  toils  and  hindrances. 
May  God  preserve  him  by  His  holy  grace  in  such  prosperity, 
for  we  need  him  much,  we  his  poor  subjects. 

The  queen  said  further :  "  If  by  the  abohtion  of  the  Sahc 
law,  the  kingdom  should  come  to  my  daughter  in  her  own 
right,  as  other  kingdoms  have  fallen  to  the  distaff,  certainly 
my  daughter  is  as  capable  of  reigning,  or  more  so,  as  most 
men  and  kmgs  whom  I  have  known ;  and  I  think  that  her 
reign  would  be  a  fine  one,  equal  to  that  of  the  king  her 
grandfather  and  that  of  the  king  her  father,  for  she  has  a 
great  mind  and  great  virtues  for  doing  that  thing."  And 
thereupon  she  went  on  to  say  how  great  an  abuse  was  the 
Salic  law,  and  that  she  had  heard  M.  le  Cardinal  de  Lorraine 
say  that  when  he  arranged  the  peace  between  the  two  kings 
with  the  other  deputies  in  the  abbey  of  Cercan,  a  dispute 
came  up  on  a  point  of  the  Salic  law  touching  the  succession 
of  women  to  the  kingdom  of  France  ;  and  M.  le  Cardinal  de 
Grandvelle,  otherwise  called  d'Arras,  rebuked  the  said  Cardinal 
de  Lorraine,  declaring  that  the  Salic  law  was  a  veritable  abuse, 
which  old  dreamers  and  chroniclers  had  written  down,  with- 
out knowing  why,  and  so  made  it  accepted;  although,  in 
fact,  it  was  never  made  or  decreed  in  France,  and  was  only  a 
custom  that  Frenchmen  had  given  each  other  from  hand  to 
hand,  and  so  introduced ;  whereas  it  was  not  just,  and,  conse- 
quently, was  violable. 

Thus  said  the  queen-mother.  And,  when  all  is  said,  it 
was  Pharamond,  as  most  people  hold,  who  brought  it  from 
his  own  country  and  introduced  it  in  France  ;  and  we  cer- 
tainly ought  not  to  observe  it,  because  he  was  a  pagan  ;  and 


MARGUERITE  OF  FRANCE  AND  NAVARRE.  169 

to  keep  so  strictly  among  us  Christians  the  laws  of  a  pagan 
is  an  offence  against  God.  It  is  true  that  most  of  our  laws 
come  from  pagan  emperors  ;  but  those  which  are  holy,  just, 
and  equitable  (and  truly  there  are  many),  we  ourselves  have 
ruled  by  them.  But  the  Salic  law  of  Pharamond  is  unjust 
and  contrary  to  the  law  of  God,  for  it  is  written  in  the  Old 
Testament,  in  the  twenty-seventh  chapter  of  Numbers  :  "  If 
a  man  die  and  have  no  son  ye  shall  cause  his  inheritance  to 
pass  to  his  daughter."  This  sacred  law  demands,  therefore, 
that  females  shall  inherit  after  males.  Besides,  if  Scripture 
were  taken  at  its  word  on  this  Salic  law,  there  would  be  no 
such  great  harm  done,  as  I  have  heard  great  personages  say, 
for  they  .speak  thus :  "  So  long  as  there  be  males,  females  can 
neither  inherit  nor  reign.  Consequently,  in  default  of  males, 
females  should  do  so.  And,  inasmuch  as  it  is  legal  in  Spain, 
Navarre,  England,  Scotland,  Hungary,  Naples,  and  Sicily  that 
females  should  reign,  why  should  it  not  be  the  same  in 
France  ?  For  what  is  right  in  one  place  is  right  everywhere 
and  ill  all  places  ;  places  do  not  make  the  justice  of  the 
law." 

In  all  the  fiefs  we  have  in  France,  duchies,  counties, 
baronies,  and  other  honourable  lordships,  which  are  nearly 
and  even  greatly  royal  in  their  rights  and  privileges,  many 
women,  married  and  unmarried,  have  succeeded;  as  in 
Bourbon,  Vendome,  Montpensier,  Nevers,  Rh(5tel,  Flandres, 
Eu,  Bourgogne,  Artois,  Zellande,  Bretaigne  ;  and  even  like 
Mathilde,  who  was  Duchesse  de  Normandie ;  Eldonore, 
Duchesse  de  Guyenne,  who  enriched  Henry  II.,  King  of 
England ;  Beatrix,  Comtesse  de  Provence,  who  brought  that 
province  to  King  Louis,  her  husband ;  the  only  daughter  of 
Raimond,  Comtesse  de  Thoulouse,  who  brought  Thoulouse 
to  Alfonse,  brother  of  Saint-Louis;  also  Anne,  Duchesse  de 
Bretaigne,  and  others.     Why,  therefore,  should  not  the  king- 


170  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

dom  of  France  call  to  itself  in  like  manner  the  daughters  of 
France  ? 

Did  not  the  beautiful  Galatea  rule  in  Gaul  when  Hercules 
married  her  after  his  conquest  of  Spain  ?  —  from  which  mar- 
riage issued  our  brave,  valiant,  generous  Gauls,  who  in  the 
olden  time  made  themselves  laudable. 

Why  should  the  daughters  of  dukes  in  this  kingdom  be 
more  capable  of  governing  a  duchy  or  a  county  and  ad- 
ministering justice  (which  is  the  duty  of  kings)  than  the 
daughters  of  kings  to  rule  the  kingdom  of  France  ?  As  if 
the  daughters  of  France  were  not  as  capable  and  fitted  to 
command  and  reign  as  those  of  other  kingdoms  and  fiefs 
that  I  have  named ! 

For  still  greater  proof  of  the  iniquity  of  the  Salic  law  it 
is  enough  to  show  that  so  many  chroniclers,  writers,  and 
praters,  who  have  all  written  about  it,  have  never  yet  agreed 
among  themselves  as  to  its  etymology  and  definition.  Some, 
like  Postel,  consider  that  it  takes  its  ancient  name  and 
origin  from  the  Gauls,  and  is  only  called  Salic  instead  of 
Gallic  because  of  the  proximity  and  likeness  in  old  type 
between  the  letter  S  and  the  letter  G.  But  Postel  is  as 
visionary  in  that  (as  a  great  personage  said  to  me)  as  he  is 
in  other  things. 

Jean  Ceval,  Bishop  of  Avranches,  a  great  searcher  into 
the  antiquities  of  Gaul  and  France,  tried  to  trace  it  to  the 
word  salle,  because  this  law  was  ordained  only  for  salles  and 
royal  palaces. 

Claude  Seissel  thinks,  rather  inappropriately,  that  it  comes 
from  the  word  sal  in  Latin,  as  a  law  full  of  salt,  that  of 
sapience,  wisdom,  a  metaphor  drawn  from  salt. 

A  doctor  of  laws,  named  Ferrarius  Montanus,  will  have  it 
that  Pharamond  was  otherwise  called  Salicq.  Others 
derive  it  from  Sallogast,  one  of  the  principal  councillors  of 
Pharamond. 


MARGUERITE   OF  FRANCE   AND   NAVARRE.  171 

Others  again,  wishing  to  be  still  more  subtle,  say  that  the 
derivation  is  taken  from  the  frequent  sections  in  the  said 
law  beginning  with  the  words:  si  aliquis,  si  aliqua.  But 
some  say  it  comes  from  Frangois  Saliens ;  and  it  is  so  men- 
tioned in  Marcellin.i 

So  here  are  many  puzzles  and  musings ;  and  it  is  not  to 
be  wondered  at  that  the  Bishop  of  Arras  disputed  the 
matter  with  the  Cardinal  de  Lorraine :  just  as  those  of  his 
nation  in  their  jests  and  jugglings,  supposing  that  this  law 
was  a  new  invention,  called  Phihppe  de  Valois  le  roi  trouve, 
as  if,  by  a  new  right  never  recognized  before  in  France, 
he  had  made  himself  king.  On  which  was  founded  that, 
the  county  of  Flanders  having  fallen  to  a  distaff.  King 
Charles  V.  of  France  did  not  claim  any  right  or  title  to 
it ;  on  the  contrary,  he  portioned  his  brother  Philippe 
with  Bourgogne  in  order  to  make  his  marriage  with  the 
Countess  of  Flanders ;  not  wishing  to  take  her  for  him- 
self, thinking  her  less  beautiful,  though  far  more  rich,  than 
her  of  Bourbon.  Wliich  is  a  great  proof  and  assurance  that 
the  Salic  law  was  not  observed  except  as  to  the  crown.  And 
it  cannot  be  doubted  that  women,  could  they  come  to  the 
throne,  beautiful,  honourable,  and  virtuous  as  the  one  of 
whom  I  here  speak,  would  draw  to  them  the  hearts  of  their 
subjects  by  their  beauty  and  sweetness  far  more  than  men 
do  by  their  strength. 

M.  du  Tillet  says  that  Queen  Clotilde  made  France  accept 
the  Christian  religion,  and  since  then  no  queen  has  ever 
wandered  from  it ;  which  is  a  great  honour  to  queens,  for 
it  was  not  so  with  the  kings  after  Clovis ;  Chilperic  I. 
was  stained   with  Arian   error,  and  was  checked    only  by 

1  The  Salic  law  :  so  called  from  being  derived  from  the  laws  of  the 
ancient  Salian  Franks,  —  according  to  Storraonth,  Littre,  and  Cassell's 
Cyclopaedia.  — Tb. 


172  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

the  firm  resistance  of  two  prelates  of  the  Galilean  church, 
according  to  the  statement  of  Grdgoire  de  Tours. 

Moreover,  was  not  Catherine,  daughter  of  Charles  VI., 
ordained  Queen  of  France  by  the  king,  her  father,  and  his 
council  [in  1420]  ? 

Du  Tillet  further  says  that  the  daughters  of  France  were 
held  in  such  honour  that  although  they  were  married  to  less 
than  kings  they  nevertheless  kept  their  royal  titles  and  were 
called  queens  with  their  proper  names  ;  an  honour  which  was 
given  them  for  life  to  demonstrate  forever  that  they  were 
daughters  of  the  kings  of  France.  This  ancient  custom 
shows  dumbly  that  the  daughters  of  France  can  be  sovereigns 
as  well  as  the  sons. 

In  the  days  of  the  King  Saint-Louis  it  is  recorded  of  a  court 
of  peers  held  by  him  that  the  Countess  of  Flanders  was  pres- 
ent, taking  part  with  the  peers.  This  shows  how  the  Salic 
law  was  not  kept,  except  as  to  the  crown.  Let  us  see  still 
further  what  M.  du  Tillet  says :  — 

"By  the  Salic  law,  written  for  all  subjects,  where  there 
were  no  sons  the  daughters  inherited  the  patrimony  ;  and  this 
should  rule  the  crown  also,  so  that  ^lesdames  the  daughters 
of  France,  in  default  of  sons,  should  take  it ;  nevertlieless, 
they  are  perpetually  excluded  by  custom  and  the  private  law 
of  the  house  of  France,  based  on  the  arrogance  of  Frenchmen, 
who  cannot  endure  to  be  governed  by  women."  And  else- 
where he  says :  "  One  cannot  help  being  amazed  at  the  long 
ignorance  that  has  attributed  this  custom  to  the  Salic  law, 
which  is  quite  the  contrary  of  it." 

King  Charles  V.,  treating  of  the  marriage  of  Queen  INIarie 
of  France,  his  daughter,  with  Guillaume,  Count  of  Hainault, 
in  the  year  1374,  stipulated  for  the  renunciation  by  the  said 
count  of  all  right  to  the  kingdom  and  to  Dauphint^ ;  which 
is  a  great  point,  for  see  the  contradictions  ! 


MARGUERITE   OF  FRANCE   AND   NAVARRE.  173 

Certainly  if  women  could  handle  arms  like  men  they  could 
make  themselves  accredited;  but  by  way  of  compensation, 
they  have  their  beautiful  faces ;  which,  however,  are  not 
recognized  as  they  deserve ;  for  surely  it  is  better  to  be  gov- 
erned by  beautiful,  lovely,  and  honourable  women  than  by 
tiresome,  conceited,  ugly,  and  sullen  men  such  as  I  have  seen 
in  this  France  of  ours. 

I  would  like  to  know  if  this  kingdom  has  found  itself  any 
better  for  an  infinitude  of  conceited,  silly,  tyrannical,  foolish, 
do-nothing,  idiotic,  and  crazy  kings  —  not  meaning  to  accuse 
our  brave  Pharamond,  Clodion,  Clovis,  Pepin,  Martel,  Charles, 
Louis,  Philippe,  Jean,  Francois,  Henri,  for  they  are  all  brave 
and  magnanimous,  those  kings,  and  happy  they  w^ho  were 
under  them  —  than  it  would  have  been  with  an  infinitude  of 
the  daughters  of  France,  very  able,  very  prudent,  and  very 
worthy  to  govern.  I  appeal  to  the  regency  of  the  mothers 
of  kings  to  show  this,  to  wit :  — 

Fr^d^gonde,  liow  did  she  administer  the  affairs  of  France 
during  the  minority  of  King  Clothaire,  her  son,  if  not  so 
wisely  and  dexterously  that  he  found  himself  before  he  died 
monarch  of  Gaul  and  of  much  of  Germany  ? 

The  like  did  Mathilde,  wife  of  Dagobert,  as  to  Clovis  II., 
her  son  ;  and,  long  after,  Blanche,  mother  of  Saint-Louis,  who 
behaved  so  wisely,  as  I  have  read,  that,  just  as  the  Eoman 
emperors  chose  to  call  themselves  "  Augustus  "  in  commemo- 
ration of  the  luck  and  prosperity  of  Augustus,  the  great 
emperor,  so  the  former  queen-mothers  after  the  decease  of 
the  kings,  their  husbands,  desired  each  to  be  called  "  Reine 
Blanche,"  in  honourable  memory  of  the  government  of  that 
wise  princess.  Though  M.  du  Tillet  contradicts  this  a  little, 
I  have  heard  it  from  a  very  great  senator. 

And,  to  come  lower  down,  Isabeau  of  Bavaria  had  the 
regency  of   her  husband,  Charles  VI.  (who  lost  his   good 


174  THE   BOOK  OF  THE   LADIES. 

sense),  by  the  advice  of  the  Council ;  and  so  had  Madame  de 
Bourbon  for  little  King  Charles  VIII.  (hiring  his  minority ; 
Madame  Louise  de  Savoie  for  King  Francois  I.;  and  our 
queen-mother  for  King  Charles  IX.,  her  son. 

If,  therefore,  foreign  ladies  (except  Madame  de  Bourbon, 
who  was  daughter  of  France)  were  capable  of  governing 
France  so  well,  why  should  not  our  own  ladies  do  as  much, 
having  good  zeal  and  affection,  they  being  born  here  and 
suckled  here,  and  the  matter  touching  them  so  closely  ? 

I  should  like  to  know  in  what  our  last  kings  have  sur- 
passed our  last  three  daughters  of  France,  Elisabeth,  Claude, 
and  Marguerite ;  and  whether  if  the  latter  had  come  to  be 
queens  of  France  they  would  not  have  governed  it  (I  do  not 
wish  to  accuse  the  regency,  which  was  very  great  and  very 
wise)  as  well  as  their  brothers.  I  have  heard  many  great 
personages,  well-informed  and  far-seeing,  say  that  possibly 
we  should  not  have  had  the  evils  we  did  have,  now  liave, 
and  shall  have  still ;  adducing  reasons  too  long  to  put  liere. 
Bat  the  common  and  vulgar  fool  says  :  "  Must  observe  tlie 
Salic  law."  Poor  idiot  that  he  is  !  does  he  not  know  that 
tlie  Germans,  from  whose  stock  we  issued,  were  wont  to  call 
their  women  to  affairs  of  State,  as  we  learn  from  Tacitus  ? 
From  that,  we  can  see  how  this  Salic  law  has  been  corrupted. 
It  is  but  mere  custom ;  and  poor  women,  unable  to  enforce 
their  rights  by  the  point  of  the  sword,  men  have  excluded, 
and  driven  them  from  everything.  Ah  !  why  have  we  no 
more  brave  and  valiant  paladins  of  France,  —  a  lioland,  a 
Renaud,  an  Ogier,  a  Deudon,  an  Olivier,  a  Graffon,  an  Yvon, 
and  an  infinity  of  other  braves,  whose  glory  and  profession  it 
was  to  succour  ladies  and  support  them  in  the  troubles  and 
adversities  of  their  lives,  their  honour,  and  their  fortunes  ? 
Why  are  they  here  no  longer  to  maintain  the  rights  of  our 
Queen   Marguerite,  daughter  of  France,  who  barely  enjoys 


MAEGUERITE   OF  FRANCE   AND  NAVARRE.  175 

an  inch  of  land  in  France,  which  she  quitted  in  noble  state, 
though  to  her,  perhaps,  the  whole  belongs  by  right  divine 
and  human  ?  Queen  Marguerite,  who  does  not  even  enjoy 
her  county  of  Auvergne,  which  is  hers  by  law  and  equity 
as  the  sole  heiress  of  the  queen,  her  mother,  is  now  with- 
drawn into  the  castle  of  Usson,  amid  the  deserts,  rocks, 
and  mountains  of  Auvergne,  —  a  different  habitation,  verily, 
from  the  great  city  of  Paris,  where  she  ought  now  to  be 
seated  on  her  throne  and  place  of  justice,  which  belongs  to 
her  in  her  own  right  as  well  as  by  that  of  her  husband. 
But  the  misfortune  is  that  they  are  not  there  together.  If 
both  were  again  united  in  body  and  soul  and  friendship,  as 
they  once  were,  possibly  all  would  go  right  once  more,  and 
together  they  would  be  feared,  respected,  and  known  for 
what  they  are. 

(Since  tliis  was  written  God  has  willed  that  they  be  recon- 
ciled, which  is  indeed  great  luck.) 

I  heard  M.  de  Pibrac  say  on  one  occasion  that  these 
Navarre  marriages  are  fatal,  because  husband  and  wife  are 
always  at  variance,  —  as  was  the  case  with  Louis  Hutin, 
King  of  Prance  and  of  Navarre,  and  Marguerite  de  Bour- 
gogne,  daughter  of  Due  Eobert  III. ;  also  Philippe  le  Long, 
King  of  France  and  Navarre,  with  Jeanne,  daughter  of  Comte 
Othelin  of  Bourgogne,  who,  being  found  innocent,  was  vindi- 
cated well ;  also  Charles  le  Bel,  King  of  France  and  of  Navarre, 
with  Blanche,  daughter  of  Othelin,  another  Comte  de  Bour- 
gogne ;  and  further,  King  Henri  d'Albret  with  ^Marguerite  de 
Valois,  who,  as  I  have  heard  on  good  authority,  treated  her 
very  ill,  and  would  have  done  worse  had  not  King  Francois, 
her  brother,  spoken  sternly  to  him  and  threatened  him  for 
honouring  his  sister  so  little,  considering  the  rank  she  held. 

The  last  King  Antoine  of  Navarre  died  also  on  ill  terms 
with  Queen  Jeanne,  his  wife ;  and  our  Queen  Marguerite  is 


176  THE   BOOK  OF  THE   LADIES. 

now  in  dispute  and  separation  from  her  husband ;  but  God 
will  some  day  happily  unite  them  in  spite  of  these  evil 
times. 

I  have  heard  a  princess  say  that  Queen  Marguerite  saved 
her  husband's  life  on  the  massacre  of  Saint-Bartholomew ; 
for  indubitably  he  was  proscribed  and  his  name  written  on 
the  "  red  paper,"  as  it  was  called,  because  it  was  necessary, 
they  said,  to  tear  up  the  roots,  namely,  the  King  of  Navarre, 
the  Prince  de  Conde,  Amiral  de  Coligny,  and  other  great 
personages  ;  but  the  said  Queen  Marguerite  flung  herself  on 
her  knees  before  King  Charles,  to  implore  him  for  the  life  of 
her  husband  and  lord.^  King  Charles  would  scarcely  grant 
it  to  her,  although  she  was  his  good  sister.  I  relate  this  for 
what  it  is  worth,  as  I  know  it  only  by  hearsay.  But  she 
bore  this  massacre  very  impatiently  and  saved  several,  among 
them  a  Gascon  gentleman  (I  think  his  name  was  Ldran),  who, 
wounded  as  he  was,  took  refuge  beneath  her  bed,  she  being 
in  it,  and  the  murderers  pursuing  him  to  the  door,  from 
which  she  drove  them  ;  for  she  was  never  cruel,  but  kind, 
like  a  daughter  of  France. 

They  say  that  the  quarrel  between  herself  and  her  hus- 
band came  more  from  the  difference  in  their  religion  than 
from  anything  else ;  for  they  each  loved  his  and  her  own, 
and  supported  it  strongly.  The  queen  having  gone  to  Pau, 
the  chief  town  of  B^arn,  she  caused  the  mass  to  be  said  there  ; 
and  a  certain  secretary  of  the  king,  her  husband,  named  ]e  Pin, 
who  had  formerly  belonged  to  M.  I'Amiral,  not  being  able  to 
stomach  it,  put  several  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  town  who 
had  been  present  at  the  mass  into  prison.  The  queen  was 
much  displeased ;  and  he,  wishing  to  remonstrate,  spoke  to 
her  much  louder  than  he  should,  and  very  indiscreetly,  even 

^  Marguerite  was  married  to  Henri,  King  of  Navarre,  six  days  before 
the  massacre  of  Saint-Bartholomew,  August,  1572. 


MARGUERITE  OF  FRANCE  AND  NAVARRE.     177 

before  the  king,  who  gave  him  a  good  rebuke  and  dismissed 
him ;  for  King  Henri  knows  well  how  to  like  and  respect  what 
he  ought ;  being  as  brave  and  generous  as  his  fine  and  noble 
actions  have  always  manifested ;  of  which  I  shall  speak  at 
length  in  his  life. 

The  said  le  Pin  fell  back  upon  the  edict  which  is  there 
made,  and  to  be  observed  under  penalty,  namely,  that  mass 
shall  not  be  said.  The  queen,  feeling  herself  insulted,  and 
God  knows  she  was,  vowed  and  declared  she  would  never 
again  set  foot  in  that  country  because  she  chose  to  be  free 
in  the  exercise  of  her  religion  ;  whereupon  she  departed,  and 
has  ever  since  kept  her  oath  very  carefully. 

I  have  heard  it  said  that  nothing  lay  so  heavily  on  her 
heart  as  tliis  indignity  of  being  deprived  of  the  exercise  of 
her  religion  ;  for  which  reason  she  begged  the  queen,  her 
good  mother,  to  come  and  fetch  her  and  take  her  to  France 
to  see  the  king  and  Monsieur,  his  brother,  whom  she  hon- 
oured and  loved  much.  Having  arrived,  she  was  not  received 
and  seen  by  the  king,  her  brother,  as  she  should  have  been. 
Seeing  this  great  change  since  she  had  left  France,  and  the 
rise  of  many  persons  she  would  never  have  thought  of  to 
grandeurs,  it  irked  her  much  to  be  forced  to  pay  court  to 
them,  as  others,  her  equals,  were  now  doing ;  and  far  from 
doing  so  herself,  she  despised  them  openly,  as  I  well  saw,  so 
high  was  her  courage.  Alas  !  too  high,  certainly,  for  it  caused 
her  misfortunes  :  had  she  been  willing  to  restrain  herself 
and  lower  her  courage  the  least  in  the  world  she  would  not 
have  been  thwarted  and  vexed  as  she  has  been. 

As  to  which  I  shall  relate  this  story :  when  the  king,  her 
brother,  went  to  Poland,  he  being  there,  she  knew  that 
M.  du  Gua,  much  favoured  l)y  her  brother,  had  made  some 
remarks  to  her  disadvantage,  enough  to  set  brother  and  sister 
at  variance  or  enmity.     At  the  end  of  a  certain  time  M.  du 

12 


178  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

Gua  returned  from  Poland  and  arrived  at  Court,  bearing  let- 
ters from  the  king  to  his  sister,  which  he  went  to  her  apart- 
ment to  give  her  and  kiss  hands.  This  I  saw  myself.  When 
she  beheld  him  enter  she  was  in  great  wrath,  and  as  he  came 
to  her  to  present  the  letter  she  said  to  him,  with  an  angry 
face  :  "  Lucky  for  you,  du  Gua,  that  you  come  before  me  with 
this  letter  from  my  brother,  which  serves  you  as  a  safeguard, 
for  I  love  him  much  and  all  who  come  from  him  are  free 
from  me  ;  but  without  it,  I  would  teach  you  to  speak  about 
a  princess  like  myself,  the  sister  of  your  kings,  your  masters 
and  sovereigns."  M.  du  Gua  answered  very  huml)ly :  "  I 
should  never,  madame,  have  presented  myself  before  you, 
knowing  that  you  wish  me  ill,  without  some  good  messa^je 
from  the  king,  my  master,  who  loves  you,  and  whom  you 
love  also;  or  without  feeling  assured,  madame,  that  for  love 
of  him,  and  because  you  are  good  and  generous,  you  would 
hear  me  speak."  And  then,  after  making  her  his  excuses  and 
telling  his  reasons  (as  he  knew  well  how  to  do),  he  denied 
very  positively  that  he  had  ever  spoken  against  the  sister  of 
his  kings  otherwise  than  very  reverently.  On  which  she 
dismissed  him  with  an  assurance  that  she  would  ever  be 
his  cruel  enemy,  —  a  promise  which  she  kept  until  his 
death. 

After  a  while  the  king  wrote  to  Mme.  de  Dampierre  and 
begged  her,  for  the  sake  of  giving  him  pleasure,  to  iiuluce 
the  Queen  of  Xavarre  to  pardon  M.  du  Gua,  which  Mme.  de 
Dampierre  undertook  with  very  great  regret,  knowing  well 
the  nature  of  the  said  queen  ;  but  because  the  king  loved 
her  and  trusted  her,  she  took  the  errand  and  went  one  day 
to  see  the  said  queen  in  her  room.  Finding  her  in  pretty 
good  humour,  she  opened  the  matter  and  made  the  appeal, 
namely  :  that  to  keep  the  good  graces,  friendship,  and  favour 
of   the   king,  her  brother,  who  was  now  about  to  become 


MARGUERITE  OF  FRANCE  AND  NAVARRE.     179 

King  of  France,  she  ought  to  pardon  M.  dvi  Gua,  forget  the 
past,  and  take  him  again  into  favour ;  for  the  king  loved 
and  favoured  him  above  his  other  friends ;  and  by  thus 
taking  M.  du  Gua  as  a  friend  she  would  gain  through  him 
many  pleasures  and  good  offices,  inasmuch  as  he  quietly 
governed  the  king,  his  master,  and  it  was  much  better  to 
have  his  help  than  to  make  him  desperate  and  goad  him 
against  her,  because  he  could  surely  do  her  much  harm ; 
telling  her  how  she  had  seen  in  her  time  during  the  reign 
of  Frangois  I.,  IMesdames  Madeleine  and  Marguerite,  one 
Queen  of  Scotland  later,  the  other  Duchesse  de  Savoie,  her 
aunts,  although  their  hearts  were  as  high  and  lofty  as  her 
own,  bring  down  their  pride  so  low  as  to  pay  court  to  M. 
de  Sourdis,  who  was  only  master  of  the  wardrobe  to  the 
king,  their  father ;  yet  they  even  sought  him,  hoping  by  his 
means,  to  obtain  the  favour  of  the  king ;  and  thus,  taking 
example  by  her  aunts,  she  ought  to  do  the  same  herself  in 
relation  to  M.  du  Gua. 

The  Queen  of  Navarre,  having  listened  very  attentively 
to  Mme.  de  Dampierre,  answered  her  rather  coldly,  but  with 
a  smiling  face,  as  her  manner  was  :  "  Madame  de  Dampierre, 
what  you  say  to  me  may  be  good  for  you ;  you  need  favours, 
pleasures,  and  benefits,  and  were  I  you  the  words  you  say  to 
me  might  be  very  suitable  and  proper  to  be  received  and  put 
in  practice ;  but  to  me,  who  am  the  daughter  of  a  king,  the 
sister  of  kings,  and  the  wife  of  a  king,  they  have  no  mean- 
ing ;  because  with  that  high  and  noble  rank  I  cannot,  for  my 
honour's  sake,  be  a  beggar  of  favours  and  benefits  from  the 
king,  my  brother ;  and  I  hold  him  to  be  of  too  good  a  nature 
and  too  well  acquainted  with  his  duty  to  deny  me  anything 
unless  I  have  the  favour  of  a  du  Gua ;  if  otherwise,  he  will 
do  great  wrong  to  himself,  his  honour,  and  his  royalty.  And 
even  if  he  be  so  unnatural  as  to  forget  himself  and  what  he 


180  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

owes  to  me,  I  prefer,  for  my  honour's  sake  and  as  my  courage 
tells  me,  to  be  deprived  of  his  good  graces,  because  I  would 
not  seek  du  Gua  to  gain  his  favours,  or  be  even  suspected  of 
gaining  them  by  such  means  and  intercession ;  and  if  the 
king,  my  brother,  feels  himself  worthy  to  be  king,  and  to 
be  loved  by  me  and  by  his  people,  I  feel  myself,  as  his 
sister,  worthy  to  be  queen  and  loved,  not  only  by  him  but 
by  all  the  world.  And  if  my  aunts,  as  you  allege,  degraded 
themselves  as  you  say,  let  them  do  as  they  would  if  such 
was  their  humour,  but  their  example  is  no  law  to  me,  nor 
will  I  imitate  it,  or  form  myself  on  any  model  if  not  my 
own."  On  that  she  was  silent,  and  Mme.  de  Dampierre 
retired ;  not  that  the  queen  was  angry  with  her  or  showed 
her  ill-will,  for  she  loved  her  much. 

Another  time,  when  M.  d'Epernon  went  to  Gascoigne 
after  the  death  of  Monsieur  (a  journey  made  for  various 
purposes,  so  they  said),  he  saw  the  King  of  Kavarre  at 
Pamiers,  and  they  made  great  cheer  and  caresses  to  each 
other.  I  speak  thus  because  at  that  time  M.  d'Epernon 
was  semi-king  of  France  because  of  the  dissolute  favour 
he  had  with  his  master,  the  King  of  France.  After  having 
caressed  and  made  good  cheer  together  the  King  of  Xavarre 
asked  him  to  go  and  see  him  at  N^rac  when  he  had  been 
to  Toulouse  and  was  on  his  way  back ;  which  he  promised 
to  do.  The  King  of  Navarre  having  gone  there  first  to 
make  preparations  to  feast  him  well,  the  Queen  of  Xavarre, 
wdio  was  then  at  Nerac,  and  who  felt  a  deadly  hatred  to  ]\r. 
d'Epernon,  said  to  the  king,  her  husband,  that  she  would 
leave  the  place  so  as  not  to  disturb  or  hinder  the  fete,  not 
being  able  to  endure  the  sight  of  M.  d'Epernon  without  some 
scandal  or  venom  of  anger  which  she  might  disgorge,  and  so 
give  annoyance  to  the  king,  her  husband.  On  which  the 
king   begged  her,  by  all  the  pleasures  that  she  could  give 


MARGUEKITE  OF  FRANCE  AND  NAVARRE.  181 

him,  not  to  stir,  but  to  help  him  to  receive  the  said  Sieur 
d'Epernon  and  to  put  her  rancour  against  him  underfoot 
for  love  of  him,  her  husband,  and  all  the  more  because  it 
greatly  concerned  both  of  them  and  their  grandeur. 

"  Well,  monsieur,"  replied  the  queen,  "  since  you  are 
pleased  to  command  it,  I  will  remain  and  give  him  good 
cheer  out  of  respect  to  you  and  the  obedience  that  I  owe 
to  you."  After  which  she  said  to  some  of  her  ladies :  "  But 
I  will  answer  for  it  that  on  the  days  that  man  is  here  I 
will  dress  in  habiliments  I  never  yet  have  worn,  namely: 
dissimulation  and  hypocrisy ;  I  will  so  mask  my  face  with 
shams  that  the  king  shall  see  there  only  good  and  honest 
welcome  and  all  gentleness ;  and  likewise  I  will  lay  discre- 
tion on  ray  lips,  so  that  externally  I  will  make  him  think 
my  heart  internally  is  kind,  which  otherwise  I  would  not 
answer  for ;  I  do  this  being  nowise  in  my  own  control,  but 
wholly  in  his,  —  so  lofty  is  he  and  full  of  frankness,  unable 
to  bear  vileness  or  the  venom  of  hypocrisy,  or  to  abase 
himself  in  any  way. 

Therefore,  to  content  the  king,  her  husband,  for  she 
honoured  him  much,  as  he  did  her,  she  disguised  her  feelings 
in  such  a  way  that,  M.  d'Epernon  being  brought  to  her 
apartment,  she  received  him  in  the  same  manner  the  king 
had  asked  of  her  and  she  had  promised ;  so  that  all  present, 
the  chamber  being  full  of  persons  eager  to  see  the  entrance 
and  the  interview,  marvelled  much,  while  the  king  and 
M.  d'Epernon  were  quite  content.  But  the  most  clear- 
sighted and  those  who  knew  the  nature  of  the  queen  mis- 
doubted something  hidden  within ;  and  she  herself  said 
afterwards  it  was  a  comedy  in  which  she  played  a  part 
unwillingly. 

These  are  two  tales  by  which  to  see  the  lofty  courage  of 
this  queen,  the  which  was  such,  as  I  have  heard  the  queen, 


182  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

her  mother,  say  (discoursing  of  this  topic),  that  she  resembled 
in  this  her  father ;  and  that  she,  the  queen-mother,  had  no 
other  child  so  like  him,  as  much  in  ways,  humours,  linea- 
ments, and  features  of  the  face  as  in  courage  and  generosity ; 
telling  also  how  she  had  seen  King  Henri  during  King 
Franc^ois'  lifetime  unal:>le  for  a  kingdom  to  pay  his  court  and 
cringe  to  Cardinal  de  Tournon  or  to  Amiral  d'Annebault, 
the  favourites  of  King  Francois,  even  though  he  might 
often  have  had  peace  with  Emperor  Charles  had  he  been 
willing  so  to  do ;  but  his  honour  could  not  submit  to  such 
attentions.  And  so,  like  father,  like  daughter.  Neverthe- 
less, all  that  injured  her  much.  I  remember  an  infinite 
number  of  annoyances  and  indignities  she  received  at  Court, 
which  I  shall  not  relate,  they  are  too  odious ;  until  at  last 
she  was  sent  away,  with  great  affront  and  yet  most  innocent 
of  what  they  put  upon  her ;  the  proofs  of  which  were  known 
to  many,  as  I  know  myself;  also  the  king,  her  husband,  was 
convinced  of  it,  so  that  he  brought  King  Henri  to  account, 
which  was  very  good  of  him,  and  henceforth  there  resulted 
between  the  two  brothers  [-in-law]  a  certain  hatred  and 
contention. 

The  war  of  the  League  happened  soon  after ;  and  because 
the  Queen  of  Xavarre  feared  some  evil  at  Court,  being  a 
strong  Catholic,  she  retired  to  Agen,  which  had  been  given 
to  her  with  the  region  about  it  by  her  brothers,  as  nn  ap- 
panage and  gift  for  life.  As  the  Catholic  religion  was  con- 
cerned, which  it  was  necessary  to  maintain,  and  also  to 
exterminate  the  other,  she  wished  to  fortify  her  side  as  best 
she  conld  and  repress  the  other  side.  But  in  this  she  was 
ill-served  by  means  of  ^Mme.  de  Duras,  who  governed  her 
much,  and  made,  in  her  name,  great  exactions  and  extor- 
tions. The  people  of  the  town  were  embittered,  and  covertly 
sought  their  freedom  and  a  means  to  drive  away  their  lady 


MARGUERITE   OF  FRANCE   AND  NAVARRE.  183 

and  her  bailiffs.  On  whicli  disturbance  the  Mardchal  de 
Matignon  took  occasion  to  make  enterprise  against  the  town, 
as  the  king,  having  learned  the  state  of  things,  commanded 
him  with  great  joy  to  do  in  order  to  aggravate  his  sister, 
whom  he  did  not  love,  to  more  and  more  displeasure.  This 
enterprise,  which  failed  at  first,  was  led  the  second  time  so 
dexterously  by  the  said  marshal  and  the  inhabitants,  that 
the  town  was  taken  by  force  with  such  rapidity  and  alarm 
that  the  poor  queen,  in  spite  of  all  she  could  do,  was  forced 
to  mount  in  pillion  behind  a  gentleman,  and  Mme.  de  Duras 
behind  another,  and  escape  as  quickly  as  they  could,  riding 
a  dozen  leagues  without  stopping,  and  the  next  day  as  much 
more,  to  find  safety  in  the  strongest  fortress  of  France, 
which  is  Carlat.  Being  there,  and  thinking  herself  in  safety, 
she  was,  by  the  manoeuvres  of  the  king,  her  brother  (who 
was  a  very  clever  and  very  subtle  king,  if  ever  there  was 
one),  betrayed  by  persons  of  that  country  and  the  fortress, 
so  that  when  she  fled  she  became  a  prisoner  in  the  hands  of 
the  Marquis  de  Canillac,  governor  of  Auvergne,  and  was 
taken  to  the  castle  of  Usson,  a  very  strong  fortress  also, 
almost  impregnable,  which  that  good  and  sly  fox  Louis  XI. 
had  made  such,  in  order  to  lodge  his  prisoners  in  a  hundred- 
fold more  security  than  at  Loches,  Bois  de  Yincennes,  or 
Lusignan. 

Here,  then,  was  this  poor  princess  a  prisoner,  and  treated 
not  as  a  daughter  of  France  or  the  great  princess  that  she 
was.  But,  at  any  rate,  if  her  body  was  captive,  her  brave 
heart  was  not,  and  it  never  failed  her,  but  helped  her  well 
and  did  not  let  her  yield  to  her  affliction.  See  what  a  great 
heart  can  do,  led  by  great  beauty!  For  he  who  held  her 
prisoner  became  her  prisoner  in  time,  brave  and  valiant 
though  he  was.  Poor  man !  what  else  could  he  expect  ? 
Did  he  think  to  hold  subject  and  captive  in  his  prison  one 


184  THE   BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

whose  eyes  and  beauteous  face  could  subject  the  whole 
world  to  her  bonds  and  chains  like  galley-slaves  I 

So  here  was  the  marquis  ravished  and  taken  by  her 
beauty ;  but  she,  not  dreaming  of  the  delights  of  love,  only 
of  her  honour  and  her  liberty,  played  her  game  so  shrewdly 
that  slie  soon  became  the  stronger,  seized  the  fort,  and  drove 
away  the  marquis,  much  dumfounded  at  such  surprise  and 
military  tactics. 

There  she  has  now  been  six  or  seven  years,^  not,  however, 
with  all  the  pleasures  of  life,  being  despoiled  of  the  county 
of  Auvergne  by  M.  le  Grand  Prieur  de  France,  whom  the 
king  induced  the  queen-mother  to  institute  count  and  heir  in 
her  wiU ;  regretting  much  that  she  could  not  leave  the  queen, 
her  good  daughter,  anything  of  her  own,  so  great  was  the 
hatred  that  the  king  bore  her.  Alas  !  what  mutation  was 
this  from  the  time  when,  as  I  saw  myself,  they  loved  each 
other  much,  and  were  one  in  body,  soul,  and  will !  Ah  !  how 
often  was  it  fine  to  see  them  discourse  togethei ;  for,  whether 
they  were  grave  or  gay,  nothing  could  be  finer  than  to  see 
and  hear  them,  for  both  could  say  what  they  wished  to  say. 
Ah '  how  changed  the  times  are  since  we  saw  them  in  that 
great  ball-room,  dancing  together  in  such  beautiful  accord  oi 
dance  and  will !  The  king  always  led  her  to  the  dance  at 
the  great  balls.  If  one  had  a  noble  majesty  the  other  had 
none  the  less  ;  the  eyes  of  all  were  never  surfeited  or  de- 
lighted enough  by  so  agreeable  a  sight ;  for  the  sets  were  so 
well  danced,  the  steps  so  correctly  periormed,  the  stops  so 
finely  made  that  we  knew  not  which  to  admire  most,  their 
beautiful  fashion  of  dancing  or  their  majesty  in  pausing ; 
representing  now  a  gay  demeanour  and  next  a  noble,  grave 

1  Marguerite  lived  eighteen  years  in  the  castle  of  Usson,  from  1587  to 
1605.  She  died  in  Paris,  March  27,  1G15,  at  the  age  of  sixty-two,  rathei 
less  than  one  year  after  Brantonie.     (French  editor.) 


/  v/y  //■/•, 


J  /         / 


MAKGUERITE   OF  FRANCE   AND   NAVARRE.  185 

disdain  ;  for  no  one  ever  saw  them  in  the  dance  that  did  not 
say  they  had  seen  no  dance  so  fine  with  grace  and  majesty 
as  this  of  the  king-brother  and  the  queen-sister.  As  for  me, 
I  am  of  that  opinion;  and  yet  I  have  seen  the  Queen  of 
Spain  and  the  Queen  of  Scotland  dance  most  beautifully. 

Also  I  have  seen  them  dance  the  Itahan  pazzemeno  [the 
minuet,  menu  2^as],  now  advancing  with  grave  port  and 
majesty,  doing  their  steps  so  gravely  and  so  well ;  next  glid- 
ing only  ;  and  anon  making  most  fine  and  dainty  and  grave 
passages,  that  none,  princes  or  others,  could  approach,  nor 
ladies,  because  of  the  majesty  that  was  not  lacking.  Where- 
fore this  queen  took  infinite  pleasure  in  these  grave  dances 
on  account  of  her  grace  and  dignity  and  majesty,  which  she 
displayed  the  better  in  these  than  in  others  like  bransles,  and 
volts,  and  courants.  The  latter  she  did  not  like,  although  she 
danced  them  well,  because  they  were  not  worthy  of  her 
majesty,  though  very  proper  for  the  common  graces  of  other 
ladies. 

I  have  seen  her  sometimes  like  to  dance  the  hransle  by 
torchlight.  I  remember  that  once,  being  at  Lyon,  on  the 
return  of  the  king  from  Poland,  at  the  marriage  of  Besne 
(one  of  her  maids  of  honour)  she  danced  the  hransle  before 
many  foreigners  from  Savoie,  Piedmont,  Italy,  and  elsewhere, 
who  declared  they  had  never  seen  anything  so  fine  as  this 
queen,  a  grave  and  noble  lady,  as  indeed  she  is.  One  of 
them  there  was  who  went  about  declaring  that  she  needed 
not,  like  other  ladies,  the  torch  she  carried  in  her  hand  ;  for 
the  light  within  her  eyes,  which  could  not  be  extinguished 
like  the  other,  was  sufficient ;  the  which  had  other  virtue 
than  leading  men  to  dance,  for  it  inflamed  all  those  about 
her,  yet  could  not  be  put  out  like  the  one  she  had  in  hand, 
but  lit  the  night  amid  the  darkness  and  the  day  beneath  the 
sun. 


186  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

For  this  reason  must  we  say  that  Fortune  has  been  to  us 
as  great  an  enemy  as  to  her,  in  that  we  see  no  longer  that 
bright  torch,  or  rather  that  fine  sun  which  lighted  us,  now 
hidden  among  those  hills  and  mountains  of  Auver'^me.  If 
only  that  light  had  placed  itself  in  some  fine  port  or  haven 
near  the  sea,  where  passing  mariners  might  be  guided,  safe 
from  wreck  and  peril,  by  its  beacon,  her  dwelhng  would  be 
nobler,  more  profitable,  more  honourable  for  herself  and  us. 
Ah !  people  of  Provence,  you  ought  to  beg  her  to  dwell  upon 
your  seacoasts  or  within  your  ports ;  then  would  she  make 
them  more  famous  than  they  are,  more  inhabited  and  richer ; 
from  all  sides  men  in  galleys,  ships,  and  vessels  would  fiock 
to  see  this  wonder  of  the  world,  as  in  old  times  to  that  of 
Ehodes,  that  they  might  see  its  glorious  and  far-shining 
pharos.  Instead  of  which,  begirt  by  barriers  of  mountains, 
she  is  hidden  and  unknown  to  all  our  eyes,  except  tlrnt  we 
have  still  her  lovely  memory.  Ah  !  beautiful  and  ancient 
town  of  jMarseille,  happy  would  you  be  if  your  port  were 
honoured  by  the  flame  and  beacon  of  her  splendid  eyes ! 
For  the  county  of  Provence  belongs  to  her,  as  do  several 
other  provinces  in  France.  Cursed  be  the  unhappy  obstinacy 
of  this  kingdom  which  does  not  seek  to  bring  her  hither  with 
the  king,  her  husband,  to  be  received,  honoured  and  wel- 
comed as  they  should  be.  (This  I  wrote  at  the  very  height 
of  the  AVars  of  the  League.) 

'^^"e^e  she  a  bad,  malicious,  miserly,  or  tyrannical  princess 
(as  there  have  been  a  plenty  in  times  past  in  France,  and 
will  be,  possibly,  again),  I  should  say  nothiiig  iu  her  favour; 
but  slie  is  good,  most  splendid,  liberal,  giving  all  to  others, 
keeping  little  for  herself,  most  charitable,  and  giving  freely 
to  the  poor.  The  great  she  mode  ashamed  with  liberalities; 
for  I  have  seen  her  make  presents  to  all  the  Court  on  Xew 
Year's  Day  such  as  the  kings,  her  brotliers,  could  not  equal 


MARGUERITE  OF  FRANCE  AND  NAVARRE.     187 

On  one  occasion  she  gave  Queen  Louise  de  Lorraine  a  fan 
made  of  mother-of-pearl  enriched  with  precious  stones  and 
pearls  of  price,  so  beautiful  and  rich  that  it  was  called  a 
masterpiece  and  valued  at  more  than  fifteen  thousand  crowns. 
The  other,  to  return  the  present,  sent  her  sister  those  long 
airjuillettes  which  Spaniards  call  puntas,  enriched  with  certain 
stones  and  pearls,  that  might  have  cost  a  hundred  crowns ; 
and  with  these  she  paid  for  that  fine  New  Year's  gift,  wiiich 
was,  certainly,  most  dissimilar. 

In  short,  this  queen  is  in  all  things  royal  and  liberal, 
honourable  and  magnificent,  and,  let  it  not  displease  the 
empresses  of  long  past  days,  their  splendours  described  by 
Suetonius,  Pliny,  and  others,  do  not  approach  her  own  in 
any  way,  either  in  Court  or  city,  or  in  her  journeys  through 
the  open  country ;  witness  her  gilded  litters  so  superbly 
covered  and  painted  with  fine  devices,  her  coaches  and  car- 
riages the  same,  and  her  horses  so  fine  and  so  richly 
caparisoned. 

Those  who  have  seen,  as  I  have,  these  splendid  appurte- 
nances know  what  I  say.  And  must  she  now  be  deprived 
of  all  this,  so  that  for  seven  years  she  has  not  stirred  from 
that  stern,  unpleasant  castle  ?  —  in  which,  however,  she  takes 
patience ;  such  virtue  has  she  of  self-command,  one  of  the 
greatest,  as  many  wise  philosophers  have  said ! 

To  speak  once  more  of  her  kindness :  it  is  such,  so  noble, 
so  frank,  that,  as  I  believe,  it  has  done  her  harm  ;  for  though 
she  has  had  great  grounds  and  great  means  to  be  revenged 
upon  her  enemies  and  injure  them,  she  has  often  withheld 
her  hand  when,  had  she  employed  those  means  or  caused 
them  to  be  employed,  and  commanded  others,  who  were 
ready  enough,  to  chastise  those  enemies  with  her  consent, 
they  would  have  done  so  wisely  and  discreetly ;  but  she 
resigned  all  vengeances  to  God. 


188  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

This  is  what  M.  du  Gua  said  to  her  once  when  she 
threatened  him :  "  Madame,  you  are  so  kind  and  generous 
that  I  never  heard  it  said  you  did  harm  to  any  one  ;  and  1 
do  not  think  you  will  begin  with  me,  who  am  your  very 
humble  servitor."  And,  in  fact,  although  he  greatly  injured 
her,  she  never  returned  him  the  same  in  vengeance.  It  is 
true  that  when  he  was  killed  and  they  came  to  tell  her,  she 
merely  said,  being  ill :  "I  am  sorry  I  am  not  well  enough 
to  celebrate  his  death  with  joy."  She  had  also  this  other 
kindness  in  her :  that  when  others  had  humbled  themselves 
and  asked  her  pardon  and  favour,  she  forgave  and  pardoned, 
with  the  generosity  of  a  lion  which  never  does  harm  to  those 
who  are  humble  to  him. 

I  remember  that  when  M.  le  Mardchal  de  Biron  was 
lieutenant  of  the  king  in  Guyenne,  war  having  broken  out 
around  him  (possibly  with  his  knowledge  and  intent),  he 
went  one  day  before  Nerac,  where  the  King  and  Queen  of 
Navarre  were  living  at  that  time.  The  marshal  prepared 
his  arquebusiers  to  attack,  beginning  with  a  skirmish.  The 
King  of  Navarre  brought  out  his  own  in  person,  and,  in 
a  doublet  like  any  captain  of  adventurers,  he  held  his  ground 
so  well  that,  having  the  best  marksmen,  nothing  could  pre- 
vail against  him.  By  way  of  bravado  the  marshal  let  fly 
some  cannon  against  the  town,  so  that  the  queen,  who  had 
gone  upon  the  ramparts  to  see  the  pastime,  came  near  hav- 
ing her  share  in  it,  for  a  ball  flew  right  beside  her ;  which 
incensed  her  greatly,  as  much  for  the  little  respect  Mardchal 
de  Biron  showed  in  braving  her  to  her  face,  as  because  he 
had  a  special  command  from  the  king  not  to  approach  the 
war  nearer  than  five  hundred  leagues  to  the  Queen  of  Navarre, 
wherever  she  might  be.  The  which  command  he  did  not 
observe  on  this  occasion ;  for  which  she  felt  resentment 
and  revenge  acfaiust  the  marshal 


MARGUERITE  OF  FRANCE  A^D   NAVARRE.     189 

About  a  year  and  a  half  later  she  came  to  Court,  where 
was  the  marshal,  whom  the  king  had  recalled  from  Guyenne, 
fearing  further  disturbance ;  for  the  King  of  Navarre  had 
threatened  to  make  trouble  if  he  were  not  recalled.  The 
Queen  of  Navarre,  resentful  to  the  said  marshal,  took  no 
notice  of  him,  but  disdained  him,  speaking  everywhere  very 
ill  of  him  and  of  the  insult  he  had  offered  her.  At  last, 
the  marshal,  dreading  the  hatred  of  the  daughter  and  sister 
of  his  masters,  and  knowing  the  nature  of  the  princess,  de- 
termined to  seek  her  pardon  by  making  excuses  and  humbling 
himself ;  on  which,  generous  as  she  was,  she  did  not  contra- 
dict him,  but  took  him  into  favour  and  friendship  and 
forgot  the  past.  I  knew  a  gentleman  by  acquaintance 
who  came  to  Court  about  this  time,  and  seeing  the  good 
cheer  the  queen  bestowed  upon  the  marshal  was  much  as- 
tonished; and  so,  as  he  sometimes  had  the  honour  of  being 
listened  to  by  the  queen,  he  said  to  her  that  he  was  much 
amazed  at  the  change  and  at  her  good  welcome,  in  which 
he  could  not  have  believed,  in  view  of  the  affront  and  injury. 
To  which  she  answered  that  as  the  marshal  had  owned  his 
fault  and  made  his  excuses  and  sought  her  pardon  humbly, 
she  had  granted  it  for  that  reason,  and  did  not  desire  further 
talk  about  his  bravado  at  N(drac.  See  how  little  vindictive 
this  good  princess  is,  —  not  imitating  in  this  respect  her 
grandmother.  Queen  Anne,  towards  the  Marechal  de  Gi^,  as 
I  have  heretofore  related. 

I  might  give  many  other  examples  of  her  kindness  in  her 
reconciliations  and  forgivenesses. 

Eebours,  one  of  her  maids  of  honour,  who  died  at  Chenon- 
ceaux,  displeased  her  on  one  occasion  very  much.  She  did 
not  treat  her  harshly,  but  when  she  was  very  ill  she  went  to 
see  her,  and  as  she  was  about  to  die  admonished  her,  and 
then  said :  "  This  poor  girl  has  done  great  harm,  but  she  has 


190  THE   BOOK   OF  THE   LADIES. 

suffered  much.  May  God  pardon  her  as  I  have  pardoned 
her."  That  was  the  vengeance  and  the  harm  she  did  her. 
Through  her  generosity  she  was  slow  to  revenge,  and  in  all 
things  kind. 

Alfonso,  the  great  King  of  Xaples,  who  was  subtle  in 
loving  the  beauties  of  women,  used  to  say  that  beauty  is 
the  sign  manual  of  kindness  and  gentle  goodness,  as  the 
beautiful  flower  is  tliat  of  a  good  fruit.  As  to  that  it  cannot 
be  doubted  that  if  our  queen  had  been  ugly  and  not  com- 
posed of  her  great  beauty,  she  would  have  been  very  bad 
in  view  of  the  great  causes  to  be  so  that  were  given  her. 
Thus  said  the  late  Queen  Isabella  of  Castile,  that  wise  and 
virtuous  and  very  Catholic  princess:  "The  fruit  of  clem- 
ency in  a  (jueeu  of  great  beauty  and  lofty  heart,  covetous  of 
honour,  is  sweeter  far  than  any  vengeance  v/hatever,  even 
though  it  be  undertaken  for  just  claims  and  reason." 

This  queen  most  sacredly  observes  that  rule,  striving  to 
conform  to  tlie  commandments  of  her  God,  whom  she  has 
always  loved  and  feared  and  served  devotedly.  Now  that 
the  world  has  abandoned  her  and  made  war  upon  her,  she 
takes  her  sole  resource  in  God,  whom  she  serves  daily,  as  I 
am  told  by  those  who  have  seen  her  in  her  affliction  ;  for 
never  does  she  miss  a  mass,  taking  the  communion  often  and 
reading  much  in  Holy  Scripture,  finding  there  her  peace  and 
consolation. 

She  is  most  eager  to  obtain  the  fine  new  books  that  are 
composed,  as  much  on  sacred  subjects  as  on  human  ;  and 
when  she  undertakes  to  read  a  book,  however  large  and  long 
it  be,  she  never  stops  or  quits  it  until  she  sees  the  end,  and 
often  loses  sleep  and  food  in  doing  so.  She  herself  composes, 
both  in  prose  and  verse.  As  to  which  no  one  can  tliink 
otherwise  than  that  her  compositions  are  learned,  beautiful, 
and    jjleasing,  for  she  knows  the  art ;   and  could  we  bring 


MARGUERITE  OF  FRANCE  AND  NAVARRE.  191 

tliem  to  the  light,  the  world  would  draw  great  pleasure  and 
great  profit  from  them.  Often  she  makes  very  beautiful 
verses  and  stanzas,  that  are  sung  to  her  by  choir-boys  whom 
she  keeps,  and  which  she  sings  herself  (for  her  voice  is 
beautiful  and  pleasant)  to  a  lute,  playing  it  charmingly. 
And  thus  she  spends  her  time  and  wears  away  her  luckless 
days,  —  offending  none,  and  living  that  tranquil  life  she 
chooses  as  the  best. 

She  has  done  me  the  honour  to  write  me  often  in  her 
adversity,  I  being  so  presumptuous  as  to  send  for  news  of 
her.  But  is  she  not  the  daughter  and  sister  of  my  kings, 
and  must  I  not  wish  to  know  her  health,  and  be  glad  and 
happy  when  I  hear  't  is  good  ?  In  her  first  letter  she  writes 
thus :  — 

"  By  the  remembrance  you  have  of  me,  which  is  not  less 
new  than  }  leasant  to  me,  I  see  that  you  have  well  preserved 
the  affection  you  have  always  shown  to  our  family  and  to 
the  few  now  left  of  its  sad  wreck,  so  that  I,  in  whatever 
state  I  be,  shall  ever  be  disposed  to  serve  you ;  feeling  most 
happy  that  ill  fortune  has  not  effaced  my  name  from  the 
remembrance  of  my  oldest  friends,  of  whom  you  are,  I 
know  that  you  have  chosen,  like  myself,  a  tranquil  life ;  and 
I  count  those  happy  who  can  maintain  it,  as  God  has  given 
me  the  grace  to  do  these  five  years,  He  having  brought  me 
to  an  ark  of  safety,  where  the  storms  of  all  these  troubles 
cannot,  I  thank  God,  hurt  me ;  so  that  if  there  remain  to 
me  some  means  to  serve  my  friends,  and  you  particularly, 
you  will  find  me  wholly  so  disposed  with  right  good  will" 

Those  are  noble  words  ;  and  such  was  the  state  and  resolu- 
tion of  our  beautiful  princess.  That  is  what  it  is  to  be  born 
of  a  noble  house,  the  greatest  in  the  world,  whence  she  drew 
her  courage  by  inheritance  from  many  brave  and  valiant 
kings,  her  father,  grandfather,  great-grandfather,  and  all  their 


192  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

ancestors.  And  be  it,  as  she  says,  that  from  so  great  a  ship- 
wreck she  alone  remains,  not  recognized  and  reverenced  as 
she  should  be  by  her  people,  I  believe  this  people  of  France 
has  suffered  much  misery  for  that  reason,  and  will  suffer 
more  for  this  war  of  the  League.  But  to-day  this  is  not 
so;i  for  by  the  valour  and  wisdom  and  fine  government  of 
our  king  never  was  France  more  flourishing,  or  more  pacific, 
or  better  ruled ;  w^hich  is  the  greatest  miracle  ever  seen, 
having  issued  from  so  vast  an  abyss  of  evils  and  corruptions ; 
by  which  it  seems  that  God  has  loved  our  queen,  —  He  being 
good  and  merciful 

Oh  !  how  ill-advised  is  he  who  trusts  in  the  people  of 
to-day  !  Oh !  how  differently  did  the  Eomans  recognize  the 
posterity  of  Augustus  Caesar,  who  gave  them  wealth  and 
grandeurs,  from  the  people  of  France,  who  received  so  much 
from  their  later  kings  these  hundred  years,  and  even  from 
FranQois  I.  and  Henri  IL,  so  that  without  them  France 
would  have  been  tumbled  topsy-turvy  by  her  enemies  watch- 
ing for  that  chance,  and  even  by  the  Emperor  Charles,  that 
hungry  and  ambitious  man.  And  thus  it  is  they  are  so 
ungrateful,  these  people,  toward  Marguerite,  sole  and  only 
remaining  daughter  and  princess  of  France !  It  is  easy 
to  foresee  the  wrath  of  God  upon  them,  because  nothing  is 
to  Him  so  odious  as  ingratitude,  especially  to  kings  and 
queens,  who  here  below  fulfil  the  place  and  state  of  God. 
And  thou,  disloyal  Fortune,  how  plainly  dost  thou  show 
that  there  are  none,  however  loved  by  heaven  and  blessed 
by  nature,  who  can  be  sure  of  thee  and  of  thy  favours  a 

1  It  is  noticeable  in  the  course  of  this  "Discourse"  that  Brantome 
wrote  it  at  one  period,  namely,  about  1593  or  1594,  and  reviewed  it  at  an- 
other, -when  Henri  IV.  -was  in  full  possession  of  the  kingdom,  but  before 
the  end  of  the  century  and  before  the  divorce.     (French  editor.) 

The  passage  to  which  the  foregoing  is  a  note  is  evidently  an  addition  to 
the  text.  —  Tr. 


MARGUERITE  OF  FRANCE  AND  NAVAKRE.     193 

single  day !  Art  thou  not  dishonoured  in  thus  so  cruelly 
affronting  her  who  is  all  beauty,  sweetness,  virtue,  magna- 
nimity and  kindness  ? 

All  this  I  wrote  during  those  wars  we  had  among  us  for 
ten  years.  To  make  an  end,  did  I  not  speak  elsewhere  of 
this  great  queen  in  other  discourses  I  would  lengthen  this 
still  more  and  all  I  could,  for  on  so  excellent  a  subject  the 
longest  words  are  never  wearisome  ;  but  for  a  time  I  now 
postpone  them. 

Live,  princess,  live  in  spite  of  Fortune  !  Never  can  you 
be  other  than  immortal  upon  earth  and  in  heaven,  whither 
your  noble  virtues  bear  you  in  their  arms.  If  public  voice  and 
fame  had  not  made  common  praise  of  your  great  merits,  or  if 
I  were  of  those  of  noble  speech,  I  would  say  further  here ; 
for  never  did  there  come  into  the  world  a  figure  so  celestial. 

This  queen  who  should  by  good  right  order  us 
By  laws  and  edicts  and  above  us  reign, 
Till  we  behold  a  reign  of  pleasure  under  her, 
As  in  her  father's  days,  a  Star  of  France, 
Fortune  hath  hindered.     Ha !  must  rightful  claim 
Be  wrongly  lost  because  of  Fortune's  spite  ? 

Never  did  Nature  make  so  fine  a  thing 
As  this  great  unique  princess  of  our  France ! 
Yet  Fortune  chooses  to  undo  her  wholly. 
Behold  how  evil  balances  with  good  ! 


In  the  sixteenth  century  there  were  three  Marguerites: 
one,  sister  of  Frangois  I.  and  Queen  of  Navarre,  celebrated 
for  her  intellect,  her  Tales  in  the  style  of  Boccaccio,  and  her 
verses,  which  are  less  interesting ;  another,  Marguerite,  niece 
of  the  preceding,  sister  of  Henri  II.,  who  became  Duchesse 
de  Savoie,  very  witty,  also  a  writer  of  verses,  and,  in  her 
youth,  the  patroness  of  the  new  poets  at  Court ;  and  lastly, 
the  third  Marguerite,  niece  and  great-niece  of  the  first  two, 

13 


194  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

daughter  of  Henri  II.  and  Catherine  de'  Medici,  first  wife  of 
Henri  IV.,  and  sister  of  the  last  Valois.  It  is  of  her  that 
I  speak  to-day  as  having  left  behind  her  most  agreeable 
historical  pages  and  opened  in  our  literature  that  graceful 
series  of  women's  Memoirs  which  henceforth  never  ceases, 
but  is  continued  in  later  years  and  lively  vein  by  Mesdames 
de  La  Fayette,  de  Caylus  and  others.  All  of  these  Memoirs 
are  books  made  without  intending  it,  and  the  better  for  that. 
The  following  is  the  reason  why  Queen  Marguerite  took  the 
idea  of  writing  those  in  which  she  describes  herself  with  so 
lightsome  a  pen. 

Brantume,  who  was  making  a  gallery  of  illustrious  French 
and  foreign  ladies,  after  bringing  Marie  Stuart  into  it,  be- 
thought him  of  placing  Marguerite  beside  her  as  another 
example  of  the  injustice  and  cruelty  of  Fortune.  Marguerite, 
at  the  period  when  Brantome  indited  his  impulsive,  enthu- 
siastic portrait  of  her,  flinging  upon  his  paper  that  eulogy 
which  may  truly  be  called  delirious,  was  confined  at  the 
castle  of  Usson  in  Auvergne  (1593),  where  she  was  not  so 
much  a  prisoner  as  mistress.  Prisoner  at  first,  she  soon 
seduced  the  man  who  held  her  so  and  took  possession  of 
the  place,  where  she  passed  the  period  of  the  League  troubles, 
and  beyond  it,  in  an  impenetrable  haven.  The  castle  of  Usson 
had  been  fortified  by  Louis  XL,  well-versed  in  precautions, 
who  wanted  it  as  a  sure  place  in  which  to  lodge  his  prisoners. 
There  Marguerite  felt  herself  safe,  not  only  from  sudden 
attack,  but  also  from  the  trial  of  a  long  siege  and  repeated 
assault.  Writing  to  her  husband,  Henri  IV.,  in  October, 
1594,  she  says  to  him,  jokingly,  that  if  he  could  see  the 
fortress  and  the  way  in  which  she  had  protected  herself 
within  it  he  would  see  that  God  alone  could  reduce  it,  and 
she  has  good  reason  to  believe  that  "this  hermitage  was 
built  to  be  her  ark  of  safety." 


MAKGUERITE  OF  FRANCE  AND  NAVARRE.     195 

The  castle  which  she  thus  compares  to  ISToah's  ark,  and 
which  some  of  her  panegyrists,  convinced  that  she  who  lived 
there  was  given  to  celestial  contemplations,  compare  to 
Mount  Tabor,  was  regarded  as  a  Caprea  and  an  abominable 
lair  by  enemies,  who,  from  afar,  plunged  eyes  of  hatred  into 
it.  It  is  very  certain,  however,  that  Queen  Marguerite  lost 
nothing  in  that  retreat  of  the  delicate  nicety  of  her  mind, 
for  it  was  there  that  she  undertook  to  write  her  Memoirs 
in  a  few  afternoons,  in  order  to  come  to  Brantome's  assist- 
ance and  correct  him  on  certain  points.  We  will  follow 
her,  using  now  and  then  some  contemporary  information, 
without  relying  too  much  upon  either,  but  endeavouring  to 
draw  with  simple  truth  a  singular  portrait  in  which  there 
enters  much  that  was  enchanting  and,  towards  the  end, 
fantastic. 

Marguerite,  born  at  Saint-Germain-en-Laye,  May  14,  1553, 
was  six  years  old  when  her  father,  Henri  11.,  was  killed  at 
that  fatal  tournament  which  ruined  the  fortunes  of  the 
house  of  Valois.  She  tells  us  several  anecdotes  of  herself 
and  her  childish  repartees  which  prove  a  precocious  mind. 
She  takes  great  pains  to  call  attention  to  a  matter  which 
in  her  is  really  a  sign,  a  distinctive  note  through  all  ex- 
cesses, namely :  that  as  a  child  and  when  it  was  the  fashion 
at  Court  to  be  "Huguenot,"  and  when  all  those  who  had 
intelligence,  or  wished  to  pass  for  having  it,  had  withdrawn 
from  what  they  called  "  bigotry,"  she  resisted  that  influence. 
In  vain  did  her  brother,  d'Anjou,  aftervv-ard  Henri  III.,  fling 
her  Hours  into  the  fire  and  give  her  the  Psalms  and  the 
Huguenot  prayers  in  place  of  it;  she  held  firm  and  pre- 
served herself  from  the  mania  of  Huguenotism,  which  at 
that  date  (1561)  was  a  fancy  at  Court,  a  French  and  mun- 
dane fashion,  attractive  for  a  time  to  even  those  who  were 
soon  to  turn  against  it  and  repress  it.     Marguerite,  in  the 


196  THE   BOOK  OF  THE   LADIES. 

midst  of  a  life  that  was  little  exemplary,  will  always  be 
found  to  have  kept  with  sincerity  this  corner  of  good  Cath- 
olicism which  she  derived  from  her  race,  and  which  made  her 
in  this  respect  and  to  this  degree  more  of  an  Italian  than  a 
Frenchwoman  ;  however,  that  which  imports  us  to  notice  is 
that  she  had  it. 

Still  a  child  when  the  first  religious  wars  began,  she  was 
sent  to  Amboise  with  her  young  brother,  d'Aleugon.  There 
she  found  herself  in  company  with  several  of  Brantome's 
female  relations :  Mme.  de  Dampien-e,  his  aunt,  ]\Ime.  de 
Eetz,  his  cousin ;  and  she  began  with  the  elder  of  tliese 
ladies  a  true  friendship ;  with  the  younger,  the  cousin,  tlie 
affection  came  later.  Marguerite  gives  the  reason  for  this 
very  prettily :  — 

"  At  that  time  the  advanced  age  of  your  aunt  and  my 
childish  youthfulness  had  more  agreement;  for  it  is  the 
nature  of  old  people  to  love  cliildren ;  and  those  who  are 
in  tlie  perfection  of  their  age,  like  your  cousin,  despise  and 
dislike  their  annoying  simplicity." 

Childhood  passed,  and  the  first  awakening  to  serious 
things  was  given  to  Marguerite  about  the  time  of  the  battle 
of  Moncontour  (1569).  She  was  then  sixteen.  The  Due 
d'Anjou,  afterwards  Henri  III.,  aged  eighteen,  handsome, 
brave,  and  giving  promise  of  a  virtue  and  a  prudence  lie 
never  justified,  took  his  sister  aside  one  day  in  one  of  the 
alleys  of  the  park  at  Plessis-lez-Tours  to  tell  lier  of  his  de- 
sire, on  starting  for  the  army,  to  leave  her  as  his  confidant 
and  support  with  their  mother,  Catherine  de'  Medici,  during 
his  absence  at  the  wars.  He  made  her  a  long  speech,  which 
she  reports  in  full  with  some  complacency :  — 

"  Sister,  the  nourishment  we  have  taken  together  obliges 
us,  not  less  than  proximity,  to  love  each  other.  .  .  .  Until 
now  we  have  naturally  been  guided  to  this  without  design 


MAEGUEEITE  OF  FRANCE  AND  NAVARRE.  197 

and  without  tlie  said  union  being  of  any  utility  beyond  the 
pleasure  we  have  had  in  conversing  together.  That  was 
good  for  our  childhood ;  but  now  it  is  time  to  no  longer 
live  like  children." 

He  then  points  out  to  her  the  great  and  noble  duties  to 
which  God  calls  him,  in  which  the  queen,  their  mother, 
brought  him  up,  and  which  King  Charles  IX.,  their  brother, 
lays  upon  him.  He  fears  that  this  king,  courageous  as  he  is, 
may  not  always  be  satisfied  with  hunting,  but  will  become 
ambitious  to  put  himself  at  the  head  of  the  armies,  the  com- 
mand of  wliich  has  been  hitherto  left  to  him.  It  is  this  that 
he  wishes  to  prevent. 

"  In  this  apprehension,"  he  continues,  "  thinking  of  some 
means  of  remedy,  I  believe  that  it  is  necessary  to  leave 
some  very  faithful  person  behind  me  who  will  maintain  my 
side  with  the  queen,  my  mother.  I  know  no  one  as  suitable 
as  you,  whom  I  regard  as  a  second  myself.  You  have  all 
the  qualities  that  can  be  desired,  —  intelligence,  judgment, 
and  fidehty." 

The  Due  d'Anjou  then  proposes  to  his  sister  to  change 
her  manner  of  life,  to  be  assiduous  towards  the  queen,  their 
mother,  at  all  hours,  at  her  lever,  in  her  cabinet  during  the 
day,  at  her  coucher,  and  so  act  that  she  be  treated  henceforth, 
not  as  a  child,  but  as  a  person  who  represents  him  during 
his  absence.  "  This  language,"  she  remarks,  "  was  very  new 
to  me,  having  lived  until  then  without  purpose,  thinking  of 
nothing  but  dancing  and  hunting;  and  without  much  in- 
terest even  in  dressing  and  in  appearing  beautiful,  not  hav- 
ing yet  reached  the  age  of  such  ambitions."  The  fear  she 
always  felt  for  the  queen,  her  mother,  and  the  respectful 
silence  she  maintained  in  her  presence,  held  her  back  still 
further.  "  I  came  very  near,"  she  says,  "  replying  to  him  as 
Moses  did  to  God  in  the  vision  of  the  bush:  'Who  am  I? 


198  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

Send,  I  pray  thee,  by  him  whom  thou  shoiildest  send.' " 
Nevertheless,  she  felt  within  her  at  her  brother's  words  a 
new  courage,  and  powers  hitherto  unknown  to  her,  and  she 
soon  consented  to  all,  entering  zealously  into  her  brother's 
design.     From  that  moment  she  felt  herself  "  transformed." 

This  fraternal  and  politic  union  thus  created  by  the  Due 
d'Anjou  did  not  last.  On  his  return  from  the  victory  of 
Moncontour  she  found  him  changed,  distrustful,  and  ruled 
by  a  favourite,  du  Gua,  who  possessed  him  as  so  many  others 
possessed  him  later.  Henceforth  his  sister  was  out  of  favour 
with  him,  and  it  was  with  her  younger  brother,  the  Due 
d'Alen^on,  that  Marguerite  renewed  and  continued  as  long 
as  she  could  a  union  of  the  same  kind,  which  gave  room  for 
all  the  feelings  and  all  the  ambitious  activities  of  youth. 

Did  she  at  that  time  give  some  ground  for  the  coolness 
of  her  brother  d'Anjou  by  her  Haison  with  the  young  Due 
de  Guise  ?  An  historian  who  knew  Marguerite  well  and  was 
not  hostile  to  her,  says:  "  She  had  long  loved  Henri,  Due  de 
Guise,  who  was  killed  at  Blois,  and  had  so  fixed  the  afl'ec- 
tions  of  her  heart  from  her  youth  upon  that  prince  of  many 
attractions  that  she  never  loved  the  King  of  Xavarre,  after- 
wards King  of  France  of  happy  memory,  but  hated  him 
from  the  beginning,  and  was  married  to  him  in  spite  of  her- 
self, and  against  canonical  law."  ^    However  this  may  be,  the 

1  The  story  goes  that  slie  refused  to  answer  at  the  marriage  ceremony ; 
on  wliich  her  brother,  Charles  IX.,  put  his  hand  behind  her  head  and  made 
her  nod,  which  was  taken  for  consent.  In  after  years,  tlie  ground  given  for 
her  divorce  was  that  of  being  married  against  her  will.  The  marriage  took 
place  on  a  stage  erected  before  the  west  front  of  the  cathedral  of  Xotre- 
Dame;  tlie  King  of  Navarre  being  a  Protestant,  the  service  could  not  be 
performed  in  the  church.  It  was  liero,  in  view  of  tlie  assembled  multi- 
tude, that  Marguerite's  nod  was  forcibly  given  wlien  she  residutely  re- 
fused to  answer.  Following  Brantoiue's  delight  in  describing  fine  clothes, 
the  wedding  gown  shonld  be  mentioned  here.  It  was  cloth  of  gold,  the 
body  so  closely  covered  with  pearls  as  to  look  like  a  cuirass ;  over  this 
was  a  blue  velvet  mantle  embroidered  with  ^/Jeurs-de-li/s,  nearly  five  yards 


MARGUERITE  OF  FRANCE  AND  NAVARRE,     199 

Due  d'Anjou  seized  the  pretext  of  the  Due  de  Guise  to  break 
with  his  sister,  whose  enemy  he  became  insensibly,  and  he 
succeeded  in  ahenating  her  from  her  mother. 

Marguerite,  in  this  flower  of  her  youth,  was,  according  to 
all  testimony,  enchantingly  beautiful.  Her  beauty  was  not 
so  much  in  the  special  features  of  her  face  as  in  the  grace 
and  charm  of  her  whole  person,  with  its  mingling  of  seduc- 
tion and  majesty.  Her  hair  was  dark,  which  was  not  thought 
a  beauty  in  those  days  ;  blond  hair  reigned.  "  I  have  seen 
her  sometimes  wearing  her  natural  hair  without  any  peruke 
artifice,"  Brautome  tells  us,  "  and  though  it  was  black  (hav- 
ing inherited  that  colour  from  King  Henri,  her  father),  she 
knew  so  well  how  to  twist  and  curl  and  arrange  it,  in  imita- 
tion of  her  sister,  the  Queen  of  Spain,  who  never  wore  any 
hair  but  her  own,  that  such  arrangement  and  coiffure  be- 
came her  as  well  as,  or  better  than,  any  other."  Toward  the 
end  of  her  life  Marguerite,  becoming  in  her  turn  antiquated, 
with  no  brown  hair  to  dress,  made  great  display  of  blond 
perukes.  "  For  them  she  kept  great,  fair-haired  footmen, 
who  were  shaved  from  time  to  time ; "  but  in  her  youth, 
when  she  dared  to  be  dark-haired  as  nature  made  her,  it 
was  not  unbecoming  to  her;  for  she  had  a  most  dazzling 
complexion  and  her  "  beautiful  fair  face  resembled  the  sky 
in  its  purest  and  greatest  serenity  "  with  its  "  noble  forehead 
of  whitening  ivory."  ISTor  must  we  forget  her  art  of  adorn- 
ing and  dressing  herself  to  advantage,  and  the  new  inven- 
tions of  that  kind  she  gave  to  women,  she  being  then  the 
queen  of  the  modes  and  fashion.  As  such  she  appeared  on 
all  solemn  occasions,  and  notably  on  that  day  when,  at  the 

lonjT,  which  was  borne  by  one  hundred  and  twenty  of  the  handsomest 
women  in  France.  ITcr  dark  hair  was  loose  and  flowing,  and  was  studded 
with  diamond  stars.  The  Due  de  Guise,  le  Balafrc,  witli  his  family  con- 
nections and  all  his  retainers,  left  Paris  that  morning,  unable  to  bear  the 
spectacle  of  the  marriage.  —  Tk, 


200  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

Tuileries,  the  queen-motlier  feted  the  Polish  seigneurs  who 
came  to  offer  the  crown  of  Poland  to  the  Due  d'Anjou.  and 
Eonsard,  who  was  present,  confesses  that  the  beautiful  god- 
dess Aurora  was  vanquished  ;  but  more  notably  still  on  that 
flowery  Easter  at  Blois,  when  we  see  her  in  procession,  her 
dark  hair  starred  with  diamonds  and  precious  stones,  wear- 
ing a  gown  of  crinkled  cloth  of  gold  from  Constantmople, 
the  weight  of  which  would  have  crushed  any  other  w^oman, 
but  which  her  beautiful,  rich,  strong  figure  supported  firmly, 
bearing  the  palm  in  lier  hand,  her  consecrated  branch,  "  with 
regal  majesty,  and  a  grace  half  proud,  half  tender."  Such 
was  the  Marguerite  of  the  lovely  years  before  the  disasters 
and  tlie  flights,  before  tlie  castle  of  Usson,  where  she  aged 
and  stiffened. 

This  beauty,  so  real,  so  solid,  which  liad  so  little  need  of 
borrowed  charms,  had,  like  all  her  being,  its  fantasticalities 
and  its  superstition.  I  have  said  already  that  she  frequently 
disguised  her  rich,  brown  hair,  preferring  a  blond  wig,  "  more 
or  less  charmingly  fashioned."'  Her  beautiful  face  was  pre- 
sented to  view  "  all  painted  and  stained."  She  took  such 
care  of  her  skin  that  she  spoiled  it  with  washes  and  recipes 
of  many  kinds,  which  gave  her  erysipelas  and  pimples. 
In  fact,  she  w^as  the  model  and  eke  the  slave  of  the  fashions 
of  her  time ;  and  as  she  survived  tliose  days  she  became  in 
the  end  a  species  of  preserved  idol  and  curiosity,  such  as 
may  be  seen  in  a  show-case.  Tlie  great  Sully,  when  he  one 
day  reappeared  at  the  Court  of  Louis  XIII.  with  his  ruff  and 
his  costume  of  the  time  of  Henri  IV.,  gave  that  crowd  of 
young  courtiers  something  to  laugh  at ;  and  so,  when  Queen 
Marguerite,  having  returned  from  Usson  to  Paris,  showed 
herself  at  the  remodelled  Court  of  Henri  lY.  she  produced 
the  same  effect  on  that  young  century,  wliicli  smiled  at 
beholdinfr  this  solemn  survival  of  the  Valois. 


MARGUERITE  OF  FRANCE  AND  NAVARRE.     201 

Like  all  those  Valois,  a  worthy  granddaughter  of  Tran- 
9ois  I.,  she  was  learned.  To  the  Poles  who  harangued  in 
Latin  she  showed  that  she  understood  them  by  replying  on 
the  spot,  eloquently  and  pertinently,  without  tlie  help  of 
an  interpreter.  She  loved  poetry  and  wrote  it,  and  had  it 
written  for  her  by  salaried  poets  whom  she  treated  as  friends. 
When  she  had  once  begun  to  read  a  book  she  could  not 
leave  it,  or  pause  till  she  came  to  the  end,  "  and  very  often 
she  would  lose  both  her  eating  and  drinking."  But  let  us 
not  forestall  the  time.  She  herself  tells  us  that  this  taste 
for  study  and  reading  came  to  her  for  the  first  time  during 
a  previous  imprisonment  in  which  Henri  III.  held  her  for 
several  months  in  1575,  and  we  are  still  concerned  with  her 
cloudless  years. 

She  was  maiTied,  in  spite  of  her  objections  as  a  good 
Catholic,  to  Llenri,  King  of  Xavarre,  six  days  before  the 
Saint-Bartholomew  (August,  1572).  She  relates  with  much 
naivete  and  in  a  simple  tone  the  scenes  of  that  night  of  horror, 
of  which  she  was  ignorant  until  the  last  moment.  We  see  in 
her  narrative  that  wounded  and  bleeding  gentleman  pursued 
through  the  corridors  of  the  Louvre,  and  taking  refuge  in 
Marguerite's  chamber,  and  flinging  himself  with  the  cry 
"  Navarre  !  Navarre  ! "  upon  her ;  shielding  his  own  body 
from  the  murderers  with  that  of  his  queen,  she  not  know- 
ing whether  she  had  to  do  with  a  madman  or  an  assailant. 
When  she  did  know  what  the  danger  was  she  saved  the 
poor  man,  keeping  him  in  bed  and  dressing  his  wounds  in 
her  cabinet  until  he  was  cured.  Queen  Marguerite,  so  little 
scrupulous  in  morality,  is  better  than  her  brothers ;  of  the 
vanishing  Valois  she  has  all  the  good  quahties  and  many  of 
their  defects,  but  not  their  cruelty. 

After  this  half-missed  blow  of  the  Saint-Bartholomew, 
which  did  not  touch  the  princes  of  the  blood,  an  attempt 


202  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

was  made  to  unmarry  her  from  the  King  of  Navarre.  On 
a  feast  day  when  she  was  about  to  take  the  sacrament,  her 
mother  asked  her  to  tell  her  under  oath,  truly,  whether  the 
king,  her  husband,  had  behaved  to  her  as  yet  like  a  husband, 
a  man,  and  whether  there  was  not  still  time  to  break  the 
union.  To  this  Marguerite  played  the  ingenue,  so  she  asserts, 
apparently  not  comprehending.  "  I  begged  her,"  she  says, 
"  to  believe  that  I  knew  nothing  of  what  she  was  speaking. 
I  could  then  say  with  truth  as  the  lioman  lady  said,  when 
her  husband  was  angry  because  she  had  not  warned  him  his 
breath  was  bad,  '  that  she  had  supposed  all  men  were  alike, 
never  having  been  near  to  any  one  but  him.' " 

Here  Marguerite  wishes  to  have  it  understood  that  she 
had  never,  so  far,  made  comparison  of  any  man  with  another 
man  ;  she  plays  the  innocent,  and  by  her  quotation  from  the 
Ptoman  lady  she  also  plays  the  learned ;  which  is  quite  in 
the  line  of  her  intelligence. 

It  would  be  a  great  error  of  literary  judgment  to  consider 
these  graceful  Memoirs  as  a  work  of  nature  and  simplicity  ; 
it  is  rather  one  of  discrimination  and  subtlety.  Wit  sparkles 
throughout ;  but  study  and  learning  are  perceptible.  In  the 
third  line  we  come  upon  a  Gr^ek  word :  "  I  would  praise 
your  work  more,"  she  writes  to  Brantome,  "  if  you  had  praised 
me  less  ;  not  wishing  that  the  praise  I  give  should  be  attrib- 
uted to  philautia  TSiiher  than  to  reason;"  hy i^liilautia  she 
means  self-love.  Marguerite  (she  will  remind  us  of  it  if  we 
forget  it)  is  by  education  and  taste  of  the  school  of  Eonsard, 
and  a  little  of  that  of  Du  Bartas.  During  her  imprisonment 
in  1575,  giving  herself  up,  as  she  tells  us,  to  reading  and 
devotion,  she  shows  us  tlie  study  wliich  led  her  back  to 
religion;  she  talks  to  us  of  the  "universal  pape  of  Xature;" 
the  "  ladder  of  knowledge ; "  the  "  cliain  of  Homer ; "  and  of 
"  that    agreeable    Encyclopedia    which,    starting  from   God, 


MAKGUERITE   OF  TRANCE  AND   NAVARRE.  203 

returns  to  God,  the  principle  and  the  end  of  all  things."  All 
that  is  learned,  and  even  transcendental 

She  was  called  in  her  family  Venus-Urania.  She  loved 
fine  discourses  on  elevated  topics  of  philosophy  or  sentiment. 
In  her  last  years,  during  her  dinners  and  suppers,  she  usually 
had  four  learned  men  beside  her,  to  whom  she  propounded 
at  the  beginning  of  the  meal  some  topic  more  or  less  sublime 
or  subtile,  and  when  each  had  spoken  for  or  against  it  and 
given  his  reasons,  she  would  intervene  and  renew  the  con- 
test, provoking  and  attracting  to  herself  at  will  their  contra- 
diction. Here  Marguerite  was  essentially  of  her  period,  and 
she  bears  the  seal  of  it  on  her  style.  The  language  of  her 
Memoirs  is  not  an  exception  to  be  counted  against  the  man- 
nerism and  taste  of  her  time ;  it  is  only  a  more  happy  em- 
ployment of  it.  She  knows  mythology  and  history;  she 
cites  readily  Burrhus,  Pyrrhus,  Timon,  the  centaur  Chiron, 
and  the  rest.  Her  language  is  by  choice  metaphorical  and 
lively  with  poesy.  "When  Catherine  de'  ]\Iedici,  going  to  see 
her  son,  the  Due  d'Anjou,  travels  from  Paris  to  Tours  in 
three  days  and  a  half  (very  rapid  in  those  times,  and  the 
journey  put  that  poor  Cardinal  de  Bourbon,  little  accustomed 
to  such  discomfort,  entirely  out  of  breath),  it  is  because  the 
queen-mother  is  "  borne,"  says  Marguerite,  "  on  the  wings  of 
desire  and  maternal  affection." 

Marguerite  likes  and  affects  all  comparisons  borrowed 
from  fabulous  natural  history,  and  she  varies  them  with 
reminiscences  of  ancient  history.  When,  in  1582,  they  recall 
her  to  the  Court  of  France,  taking  her  from  her  husband 
and  from  Xdrac,  where  she  had  then  been  three  or  four 
years,  she  perceives  a  project  of  her  enemies  to  blow  up  a 
quarrel  between  herself  and  her  husband  during  this  ab- 
sence. "  They  hoped,"  she  says,  "  that  separation  would  be 
like  the  breaking  of  the  ^Macedonian  battalion."     When  tb* 


204  THE   BOOK  OF  THE   LADIES. 

famous  Phalanx  was  once  broken  entrance  was  easy.  This 
style,  so  ornate  and  figurative,  usually  delicate  and  graceful, 
has  also  its  outspokenness  and  firmness  of  tone.  Speaking 
of  the  expedition  projected  by  her  brother,  the  Due  d'  Alen- 
^on,  in  Flanders,  she  explains  it  in  terms  of  energetic  beauty, 
representing  to  the  king  that  "it  is  for  the  honour  and 
aggrandizement  of  France;  it  will  prove  an  invention  to 
prevent  civil  war,  all  restless  spirits  desirous  of  novelty  hav- 
ing means  to  pass  into  Flanders  and  blow  off  their  smoke 
and  surfeit  themselves  with  war.  This  enterprise  will  also 
serve,  like  Piedmont,  as  a  school  for  the  nobility  in  the 
practice  of  arms  ;  we  shall  there  revive  the  Montlucs  and 
Brissacs,  the  Termes  and  the  Bellegardes,  and  all  those  great 
marshals  who,  trained  to  war  in  Piedmont,  have  since  then 
so  gloriously  and  successfully  served  their  king  and  their 
country." 

One  of  the  most  agreeable  parts  of  these  Memoirs  is  the 
journey  in  Flanders,  Hainault,  and  the  Lifege  country  which 
Marguerite  made  in  1577  ;  a  journey  undertaken  ostensibly 
to  drink  the  waters  of  Spa,  but  in  reality  to  gain  partisans 
for  her  brother  d'Alengon,  in  his  project  of  wrenching  the 
Low  Countries  from  Spain.  The  details  of  her  coquettish, 
and  ceremonial  magnificence,  so  dear  to  ladies,  are  not 
omitted :  — 

"  I  went,"  says  ]\Iarguerite,  "  in  a  litter  with  columns  cov- 
ered with  rose-coloured  Spanish  velvet,  embroidered  in  gold 
and  shaded  silks  with  a  device  ;  this  litter  was  enclosed  in 
glass,  and  each  glass  also  bore  a  device,  there  being,  whether 
on  the  velvet  or  on  the  glass,  forty  different  devices  about 
the  sun  and  its  effects,  with  the  words  in  Spanish  and 
Italian." 

Those  forty  devices  and  their  explanation  M'ere  an  ever 
fresh  subject  of  gallant  conversation  in  the  towns   through 


MARGUERITE  OF  FRANCE  AND  NAVARRE.     205 

which  she  passed.  Amid  it  all,  Marguerite,  then  in  the  full 
bloom  of  her  twenty-fourth  year,  went  her  way,  winning 
all  hearts,  seducing  the  governors  of  citadels,  and  persuad- 
ing them  to  useful  treachery.  On  this  journey  she  meets 
with  charming  Flemish  scenes  which  she  pictures  delight- 
fully. Take,  for  example,  the  gala  festival  at  Mons,  where 
the  beautiful  Comtesse  de  Lalain  (Marguerite,  Princesse  de 
Ligne),  whose  beauty  and  rich  costume  are  described  most 
particularly,  has  her  child  brought  to  her  in  swaddling- 
clothes  and  suckles  it  before  the  company  ;  "  which,"  re- 
marks Marguerite,  "  would  have  been  an  incivility  in  any 
one  else  ;  but  she  did  it  with  such  grace  and  simplicity,  like 
all  the  rest  of  her  actions,  that  she  received  as  much  praise 
as  the  company  did  pleasure." 

Leaving  Namur,  we  have  at  Lifege  a  touching  and  pathetic 
story  of  a  poor  young  girl.  Mile,  de  Tournon,  who  dies  of 
grief  for  being  slighted  and  betrayed  by  her  lover,  to  whom 
she  was  going  in  the  utmost  confidence ;  and  who  himself, 
coming  to  a  better  mind  too  late,  rushes  to  console  her,  and 
finds  her  coffin  on  arrival.  We  have  here  from  Queen  Mar- 
guerite's pen  the  finished  sketch  of  a  tale  in  the  style  of 
Mme.  de  La  Fayette,  just  as  above  we  had  the  drawing  of 
a  perfect  little  Flemish  picture.  On  her  return  from  this 
journey,  the  scenes  Marguerite  passes  through  at  Dinant 
prove  her  coolness  and  presence  of  mind,  and  present  us 
with  another  Flemish  picture,  but  not  so  graceful  as  that  of 
Mons  and  the  beautiful  nursing  countess ;  this  time  it  is 
a  scene  of  public  drunkenness,  grotesque  burgher  rioting, 
and  burgomasters  in  their  cups.  A  painter  need  only 
transfer  and  copy  the  very  lines  which  ]\Iarguerite  has  so 
happily  traced,  to  make  a  faithful  picture. 

After  these  journeys,  being  now  reunited  at  her  house  of 
La  F^re  in  Picardy  with   her  dear  brother  d'Alen^on,  she 


206  THE   BOOK  OF  THE   LADIES. 

realizes  there  for  nearly  two  months,  "  which  were  to  us," 
she  says,  "like  two  short  days,"  one  of  those  terrestrial 
paradises  which  were  at  all  times  the  desire  of  her  imagi- 
nation and  of  her  heart.  She  loved  beyond  all  things  those 
spheres  of  enchantment,  those  Fortunate  Isles,  alike  of 
Urania  and  of  Calypso,  and  she  was  ever  seeking  to  repro- 
duce them  in  all  places  and  under  all  forms,  whether  at  her 
Court  at  N^rac  or  amid  the  rocks  of  Usson,  or,  at  the  last, 
in  that  beautiful  garden  on  the  banks  of  the  Seine  (which 
to-day  is  the  Piue  des  Petits-Augustins)  where  she  strove  to 
cheat  old  age. 

**  0  my  queen  !  how  good  it  is  to  be  w^ith  you ! "  exclaims 
continually  her  brother  d'Alengon,  enchanted  with  the  tliou- 
sand  graceful  imaginations  with  which  she  varied  and  em- 
bellished this  sojourn  at  La  Ffere.  And  she  adds  naively, 
mingling  her  Christian  erudition  with  sentiment :  "  He 
would  gladly  have  said  with  Saint  Peter :  *  Let  us  make  our 
tabernacle  here,'  if  the  regal  courage  he  possessed  and  the 
generosity  of  his  soul  had  not  called  him  to  greater  things." 
As  for  her,  we  can  conceive  that  she  would  gladly  have  re- 
mained there,  prolonging  without  weariness  tlie  enchant- 
ment ;  she  would  willingly  have  arranged  her  life  like  that 
beautiful  garden  at  Xdrac  of  which  she  constantly  speaks, 
"  which  has  such  charming  alleys  of  laurel  and  cypress,"  or 
like  the  park  she  had  made  tliere,  "  with  paths  three  thou- 
sand paces  long  beside  the  river;"  the  chapel  being  close 
at  hand  for  morning  mass,  and  the  violins  at  her  orders  for 
the  evening  balL 

AVhatever  ability  and  shrewdness  Queen  Marguerite  may 
have  shown  in  various  political  circumstances  in  tlie  course 
of  her  life,  we  nevertheless  perceive  plainly  that  she  was  not 
a  political  woman ;  she  was  too  essentially  of  her  sex  for 
that.     There  are  verv  few  women  who,  like   the   Princess 


MAKGUEKITE  OF  FRANCE  AND  NAVARRE.     207 

Palatine  [Anne  de  Gonzaga]  or  the  illustrious  Catherine  of 
Russia,  know  how  to  be  libertine  yet  sure  of  themselves ; 
able  to  establish  an  impenetrable  partition  between  the  alcove 
and  the  cabinet  of  public  affairs.  Nearly  all  the  women  who 
have  mingled  in  the  intrigues  of  politics  have  introduced 
and  confused  with  them  their  intrigues  of  heart  or  senses. 
Consequently,  whatever  intelligence  they  may  have,  they 
elude  or  escape  at  a  certain  moment,  and  unless  there  be 
a  man  who  holds  the  tiller  and  gives  them  with  decision 
their  course,  we  find  them  unfaithful,  treacherous,  not  to 
be  relied  on,  and  capable  at  any  moment  of  colloguing 
through  a  secret  window  with  an  emissary  of  the  opposite 
side.  Marguerite,  with  infinite  intelligence  and  gTace,  was 
one  of  those  women.  Distinguished  but  not  superior,  and 
wholly  influenced  by  passions,  she  had  wiles  and  artifices 
of  a  passing  kind,  but  no  views,  and  still  less  stability. 

One  of  the  remarkable  features  of  her  Memoirs  is  that 
she  does  not  tell  all,  nor  even  the  half  of  all,  and  in  the  very 
midst  of  the  odious  and  extravagant  accusations  made  against 
her  she  sits,  pen  in  hand,  a  delicate  and  most  discreet  woman. 
Nothing  can  be  less  like  confession  than  her  Memoirs.  "  We 
find  there,"  says  Baylo,  "  many  sins  of  omission ;  but  could 
we  expect  that  Queen  Marguerite  would  acknowledge  the 
things  that  would  blast  her  ?  Such  avowals  are  reserved  for 
tlie  tribunal  of  confession;  they  are  not  meant  for  history." 
At  the  most,  when  enlightened  by  history  and  by  the  pam- 
phlets of  the  period,  we  can  merely  guess  at  certain  feel- 
ings of  which  she  presents  to  us  only  the  superficial  and 
specious  side.  "When  she  speaks  of  Bussy  d'Amboise  she 
scarcely  restrains  her  admiration  for  that  gallant  cavalier, 
and  we  fancy  we  can  see  in  the  abundance  of  that  praise 
that  her  heart  overflows. 

Even  the  letters  that  we  have  from  her  say  little  more. 


208  THE   BOOK  OF  THE   LADIES. 

• 

Among  them  are  love  letters  addressed  to  him  whom  at  one 
time  she  loved  the  most,  Harlay  de  Chanvalon.  Here  we 
find  no  longer  the  charming,  moderately  ornate,  and  naturally 
polished  style  of  the  Memoirs;  this  is  all  of  the  highest 
metaphysics  and  purest  fustian,  nearly  unintelligible  and 
most  ridiculous.  "  Adieu,  my  beauteous  sun  !  adieu,  my 
noble  angel !  fine  miracle  of  nature ! "  those  are  tlie  most 
commonplace  and  earthly  of  her  expressions ;  the  rest  mount 
ever  higher  till  lost  in  the  Empyrean.  It  would  really  seem, 
from  reading  these  letters,  as  if  Marguerite  had  never  loved 
with  heart-love,  only  with  the  head  and  the  imagination ;  and 
that,  feeling  truly  no  love  but  the  physical,  she  felt  herself 
bound  to  refine  it  in  expression  and  to  petrarchize  in  words, 
she,  who  was  so  practical  in  behaviour.  She  borrows  from 
the  false  poetry  of  her  day  its  tinsel  in  order  to  persuade 
herself  that  the  fancy  of  the  moment  is  an  eternal  worship. 
A  practical  observation  is  quoted  of  her  which  tells  us  better 
than  her  own  letters  the  secret  of  her  life.  "Would  you 
cease  to  love  ?  "  she  said,  "  possess  the  thing  beloved."  It  is 
to  escape  this  quick  disenchantment,  this  sad  and  rapid 
awakening,  that  she  is  so  prodigal  of  her  figurative,  myth- 
ological, impossible  expressions ;  she  is  trying  to  make  her- 
self a  veil ;  the  heart  counts  for  nothing.  She  seems  to  be 
saying  to  love :  "  Thy  base  is  so  trivial,  so  passing  a  thing, 
let  us  try  to  support  it  by  words,  and  so  prolong  its  image 
and  its  play." 

Her  life  well  deduced  and  well  related  would  make  the 
subject  of  a  teeming  and  interesting  volume.  Having  ob- 
tained, after  the  persecutions  and  troubles,  permission  to 
rejoin  her  husband  in  Gascogne  (1578),  she  remained  there 
three  and  a  half  years,  enjoying  her  liberty  and  leaving  him 
his.  She  counts  these  days  at  N(^rac,  mingled,  in  spite  of 
the  re-beginning  wars,  with  balls,  excursions,  and  "  aU  sorts 


MAKGUERITE  OF  FRANCE  AND  NAVARRE.     209 

of  virtuous  pleasures,"  as  an  epoch  of  happiness.  Henri's 
weaknesses  and  her  own  harmonized  remarkably,  and  never 
clashed.  But  Henri  soon  crossed  the  limit  of  license,  and 
she,  on  her  side,  equally.  It  is  not  for  us  to  hold  the  balance 
or  enter  here  into  details  which  would  soon  become  indelicate 
and  shameful.  Marguerite,  who  had  gone  to  spend  some 
time  in  Paris  at  her  brother's  Court  (1582,  1583)  did  not 
return  to  her  husband  until  after  an  odious  scandal  had  made 
public  her  frailty. 

From  that  time  forth  her  life  did  not  retain  its  early, 
smiling  joyfulness.  She  was  now  past  thirty ;  civil  wars 
were  lighted,  never  to  be  extinguished  until  after  the  des- 
perate struggles  and  total  defeat  of  the  League.  Marguerite, 
becoming  a  queen-adventuress,  changed  her  abode  from  time 
to  time,  until  she  found  herself  in  the  castle  of  Usson,  that 
asylum  of  which  I  have  spoken,  where  she  passed  no  less 
than  eighteen  years  (1587-1605).  What  happened  there  ? 
Doubtless  many  common  frailties,  but  less  odious  than  are 
told  by  bitter  and  dishonourable  chroniclers,  the  only 
authorities  for  the  tales  they  put  forth. 

During  this  time  Queen  Marguerite  did  not  entirely  cease 
to  correspond  with  her  husband,  now  become  King  of  France. 
If  the  conduct  of  the  royal  pair  leaves  much  to  be  desired 
with  regard  to  each  other,  and  also  with  regard  to  the  public, 
let  us  at  least  recognize  that  their  correspondence  is  that  of 
honourable  persons,  persons  of  good  company,  whose  hearts 
are  much  better  than  their  morals.  When  reasons  of  State 
determined  Henri  to  unmarry  himself,  to  break  a  union 
which  was  not  only  sterile  but  scandalous,  ]\Iarguerite 
agreed  without  resistance,  —  seeming,  however,  to  be  fully 
conscious  of  what  she  was  losing.  To  accomplish  the 
formalities  of  divorce,  the  pope  delegated  certain  bishops 
and   cardinals   to   interrogate   separately  the   husband   and 

14 


210  THE  BOOK  or  THE  LADIES. 

wife.  Marguerite  expresses  the  desire,  inasmuch  as  she 
must  be  questioned,  that  this  may  be  done  "  by  more  private 
and  familiar  "  persons,  her  courage  not  being  able  to  endure 
publicly  so  great  a  diminution ;  "  fearing  that  my  tears," 
she  writes,  "  may  make  these  cardinals  think  I  am  acting 
from  force  or  constraint,  which  would  injure  the  effect  the 
king  desires"  (Oct.  21,  1599).  King  Henri  was  touched  by 
the  feelings  she  showed  throughout  this  long  negotiation. 
"  I  am  very  satisfied,"  he  writes,  "  at  the  ingenuousness 
and  candour  of  your  procedure ;  and  I  hope  that  God  will 
bless  the  remainder  of  our  days  with  fraternal  affection,  ac- 
companied by  the  public  good,  which  will  render  them  very 
happy."  He  calls  her  henceforth  his  sister ;  and  she  herself 
says  to  him :  "  You  are  father,  brother,  and  king  to  me." 
If  their  marriage  was  one  of  the  least  noble  and  the  most 
bourgeois,  their  divorce,  at  any  rate,  was  royal 

[Here  Sainte-Beuve  does  not  keep  strictly  to  history. 
Henri  lY.  had  long  urged  Marguerite  to  consent  to  a 
divorce ;  but  she,  aware  that  he  was  taking  steps  to  divorce 
Gabrielle  d'Estr^es  from  her  husband,  in  order  to  marr}^  her, 
and  feeling  the  indignity  of  such  a  marriage,  firmly  refused, 
and  continued  to  do  so  until  the  sudden  death  of  Gabrielle 
in  Paris  during  Holy  Y^eek  of  1599  ;  on  which  Marguerite 
consented  at  once  to  the  divorce,  and  Henri  married  Marie 
de'  Medici,  December  17  of  the  same  year. 

Five  years  later  (1605)  Marguerite  returned  from  the 
castle  of  Usson  and  held  her  Court  in  Paris  at  the  hotel 
de  Sens  (which  still  exists)  and  at  her  various  chateaux  in 
Languedoc  ;  no  longer,  alas !  the  Peine  Margot  of  our  ill- 
regulated  affections,  and  somewhat  open  to  the  malicious 
comments  of  Tallemant  dos  Peaux,  but  appearing  at  times 
with  all  her  wonted  spirit  and  regal  dignity.     These  were 


MAEGUERITE  OF  FRANCE  AND  NAVARRE.  211 

the  days  when  she  kept  a  brigade  of  golden-haired  footmen 
who  were  shorn  for  the  wigs ;  and  the  story  goes  that  her 
gowns  were  made  with  many  pockets,  in  each  of  which  she 
kept  the  mummied  heart  of  a  lover.  But  such  tales  must 
be  taken  for  what  they  are  worth,  and  a  better  chronicler 
than  the  satirists  of  the  Valois  has  given  us  ocular  proof  of 
her  last  majestic  presence  at  a  public  ceremony  five  years 
before  her  death. 

In  1610,  Henri  TV.  preparing  to  leave  France  for  the  war 
in  Germany,  and  wishing  to  appoint  Queen  Marie  de*  Medici 
regent,  it  became  necessary  to  have  the  latter  crowned.  This 
was  done  in  the  cathedral  of  Saint-Denis,  May  13,  1610.  The 
Queen  of  oSTavarre,  as  Marguerite,  daughter  of  France  and 
first  princess  of  the  blood,  was  required  to  be  present  at 
the  ceremony.  Eubens'  splendid  picture  (reproduced  in  this 
volume)  gives  the  scene.  Marie  de'  Medici,  kneeling  before 
the  altar,  is  being  crowned  by  Cardinal  de  Joyeuse,  assisted 
by  his  clergy  and  two  other  cardinals  ;  beside  the  queen  are 
the  dauphin  (Louis  XIII.)  and  his  sister,  Ehsabeth,  after- 
wards Queen  of  Spain.  The  Princesse  de  Conti  and  the 
Duchesse  de  Montpeusier  carry  the  queen's  train ;  the  Due 
de  Ventadour,  his  back  to  the  spectator,  bears  the  sceptre, 
and  the  Chevalier  de  Vendome  the  sword  of  Justice.  To 
the  left,  leading  the  cortege  of  princesses  and  nobles,  is  the 
Queen  of  Navarre,  easily  recognized  by  her  small  closed 
crown,  all  the  other  princesses  wearing  coronets.  In  the 
background,  to  right,  in  a  gallery,  sits  Henri  IV.  viewing 
the  ceremony.  As  he  did  so  he  turned  with  a  shudder 
to  the  man  behind  him  and  said :  "  I  am  thinking  how 
this  scene  would  appear  if  this  were  the  Last  Day  and 
the  Judge  were  to  summon  us  all  before  Him."  Henri  IV. 
was  killed  by  Eavaillac  the  following  morning,  while  his 
coach   stood   blocked   in    the   streets   by   the   crowds   who 


212  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

were  collecting  for  the  public  entry  of  Marie  de*  Medici 
into  Paris. 

The  young  Elisabeth,  eldest  daughter  of  the  king  and 
Marie  de'  Medici,  who  appears  at  the  coronation  of  her 
mother,  was  afterwards  wife  of  Philip  IV.  of  Spain,  and 
mother  of  the  Infanta  Maria  Theresa,  wife  of  Louis  XIV., 
also  of  Carlos  II.,  at  whose  death  Louis  XIV.  obtained  the 
crown  of  Spain  for  his  grandson,  the  Due  d'Anjou,  Philip  \. 
This  Elisabeth  of  France,  Queen  of  Spain,  is  the  original  of 
Piubens'  magnificent  portrait  reproduced  in  this  chapter. — Tii.] 

Queen  Marguerite  returned  from  Usson  to  Paris  in  1605; 
and  here  we  find  her  in  her  last  estate,  turned  sli<zhtlv  to 
ridicule  by  Tallemant,  the  Qcho  of  the  new  century.  Eigh- 
teen years  of  confinement  and  solitude  had  given  her  singu- 
larities, and  even  manias  ;  they  now  burst  forth  in  open  day. 
She  still  had  adventures  both  gallant  and  startling:  an 
equerry  whom  she  loved  was  killed  at  her  carriage  door  by 
a  jealous  servant,  and  the  poet  Maynard,  a  young  disciple 
of  ]\Ialherbe,  one  of  Marguerite's  heaux-esjjrits,  wrote  stanzas 
and  plaints  about  it.  During  the  same  period  IMarguerite 
had  many  sincere  thoughts  that  were  more  than  fits  of 
devotion.  "With  Maynard  for  secretary,  slie  had  also  Vincent 
de  Paul,  young  in  those  days,  for  her  chaplain.  She  founded 
and  endowed  convents,  all  the  wdiile  paying  learned  men  to 
instruct  her  in  philosophy,  and  musicians  to  amuse  her  dur- 
ing divine  service  and  at  hours  more  profane.  She  gave  many 
alms  and  gratuities  and  did  not  pay  her  debts.  It  was  not 
precisely  good  sense  that  presided  over  her  life.  Put  amidst 
it  all  she  was  loved.  "  On  the  27th  day  of  the  month  of 
March  "  (1615),  says  a  contemporary,  "  died  in  Paris  Queen 
Marguerite,  sole  remains  of  the  race  of  Valois,  —  a  princess 
full  of  kindness  and  of  ffood  intentions  for  the  good  and  the 


MARGUERITE  OF  FRANCE  AND  NAVARRE.    213 

peace  of  the  State,  ivlio  did  no  harm  to  any  hut  herself.     She 
was  greatly  regretted.     She  died  at  the  age  of  sixty -two." 

Certain  persons  have  attempted  to  compare  her  for  beauty, 
for  misfortunes,  for  intellect,  with  Marie  Stuart.  Certainly, 
at  a  point  of  departure  there  was  much  in  common  between 
the  two  queens,  the  two  sisters-in-law,  but  the  comparison 
cannot  be  maintained  historically.  Marie  Stuart,  who  had 
in  herself  the  wit,  grace,  and  manners  of  the  Valois,  who 
was  scarcely  more  moral  as  a  woman  than  Marguerite,  and 
was  implicated  in  acts  that  were  far  more  monstrous,  had, 
or  seemed  to  have,  a  certain  elevation  of  heart,  which  she 
acquired,  or  developed,  in  her  long  captivity  crowned  by 
her  sorrowful  death.  Of  the  two  destinies,  the  one  repre- 
sents definitely  a  great  cause,  and  ends  in  a  pathetic  legend 
of  victim  and  martyr ;  the  reputation  of  the  other  is  spent 
and  scattered  in  tales  and  anecdotes  half  smutty,  half  de- 
vout, into  which  there  enters  a  grain  of  satire  and  of  gayety. 
From  the  end  of  one  comes  many  a  tearful  tragedy  ;  from 
that  of  the  other  nought  can  be  made  but  a./ahliaiL 

That  which  ought  to  be  remembered  to  Marguerite's  hon- 
our is  her  intelligence,  her  talent  for  saying  the  right  word  ; 
in  short,  that  which  is  said  of  her  in  the  ]Memoirs  of  Cardinal 
de  Richelieu :  "  She  was  the  refuge  of  men  of  letters ;  she 
loved  to  hear  them  talk  ;  her  table  was  always  surrounded 
by  them,  and  she  learned  so  much  from  their  conversation 
that  she  talked  better  than  any  other  woman  of  her  time,  and 
wrote  more  elegantly  than  the  ordinary  condition  of  her  sex 
would  warrant."  It  is  in  that  way,  by  certain  exquisite 
pages  which  form  a  date  in  our  language,  that  she  enters,  in 
her  turn,  into  literary  history,  the  noble  refuge  of  so  many 
wrecks,  and  that  a  last  and  a  lasting  ray  shines  from  her 
name. 

C.-A.  Sainte-Beuve,  Causeries  du  Luridi  (1852). 


DISCOUESE  VI. 

MESDAMES,  THE    DAUGHTERS    OF    THE    NOBLE    HOUSE 
OF  FRAXCE.i 

1.   Madame  Yoland  de  France. 

'T  IS  a  thing  that  I  have  heard  great  personages,  both  men 
and  ladies  of  the  Court,  remark,  that  usually  the  daughters 
of  the  house  of  France  have  been  good,  or  witty,  or  gracious, 
or  generous,  and  in  all  things  accomplished ;  and  to  confirm 
this  opinion  they  do  not  go  back  to  the  olden  time,  but  say 
it  of  those  of  whom  they  have  knowledge  themselves,  or 
have  heard  their  fathers  and  grandfathers  who  have  been 
at  the  Court  talk  of. 

First,  I  shall  name  here  Madame  Yoland  of  France, 
daughter  of  Charles  YIL,  and  wife  of  the  Due  de  Savoie 
and  Prince  of  Piedmont. 

She  was  very  clever ;  true  sister  to  her  brother,  Louis  XT. 
She  leaned  a  little  to  the  party  of  Due  Charles  de  Bour- 
gogne,  her  brother-in-law,  he  having  married  her  elder  sister 
Catherhie,  who  scarcely  lived  after  wedding  her  husband,  so 
that  her  virtues  do  not  appear.  Yoland,  seeing  that  Due 
Charles  was  her  neighbour  and  might  be  feared,  did  what 
she  could  to  maintain  his  friendship,  and  he  served  her 
much  in  the  business  of  her  State.  But  he  dying,  King 
Louis  XT.  came  down  upon  her  grandeur  and  lier  means,  and 
tho<e  of  Savoie.  But  ]\TndamG  la  duche:^se,  clever  lady  1  found 
means  of  winning  over  her  brother  the  king,  and  went  to  see 

1  Meaninu-  the  dautrhters  of  the  kings  of  T'ranee  onlv.  —  Tu. 


MESDAMES,  THE   DAUGHTERS   OF  FKANCE.  215 

him  at;  Plessis-lez-Tours  to  settle  their  affairs.  She  having 
arrived,  the  king  went  dovv^n  to  meet  her  in  the  courtyard 
and  welcome  her ;  and  having  howed  and  kissed  her  and 
put  his  arm  around  her  neck,  half  laughing,  half  pinching 
her,  he  said :  "  Madame  la  Bourgognian,  you  are  very  wel- 
come." She,  making  him  a  great  curtsey,  replied :  "  ]\Ion- 
sieur,  I  am  not  Bourgognian ;  you  will  pardon  me  if  you 
please.  I  am  a  very  good  Frenchwoman  and  your  humble 
servant."  On  which  the  king  took  her  by  the  arm  and  led 
her  to  her  chamber  with  very  good  welcome ;  but  Madame 
Yoland,  who  was  shrewd  and  knew  the  kinsj's  nature,  was 
determined  not  to  remain  long  with  him,  but  to  settle  her 
affairs  as  fast  as  she  could  and  get  away. 

The  king,  on  the  other  hand,  who  knew  the  lady,  did  not 
press  her  to  stay  very  long ;  so  that  if  one  was  displeased 
with  the  other,  the  other  was  displeased  with  the  first; 
wherefore  without  staying  more  than  eight  days  she  returned, 
very  little  content  with  the  king,  her  brother. 

Philippe  de  Commines  has  told  about  this  meeting  more 
at  length ;  but  the  old  people  of  those  days  said  that  they 
thought  this  princess  a  very  able  female,  who  owed  nothing 
to  the  king,  her  brother,  who  twitted  her  often  about  being 
a  Bourgognian  ;  but  she  tacked  about  as  gently  and  modestly 
as  she  could,  for  fear  of  affronting  him,  knowing  full  well, 
and  better  than  even  her  brother,  how  to  dissimulate,  being 
a  hundred  times  slyer  than  he  in  face,  and  speech,  and  ways, 
though  always  very  good  and  very  wise. 

2.   Madame  Jeanne  de  France. 

Jeanne  de  France,  daughter  of  the  aforesaid  king,  Louis  XI., 
was  very  witty,  but  so  good  that  after  her  death  she  was 
counted  a  saint,  and  even  as  doing  miracles,  because  of  the 
sanctity  of  the  life  she  led  after  her  husband,  Louis  XII., 


216  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

repudiated  her  [to  marry  Anne  de  Bretagne] ;  after  which 
she  retired  to  Bourges,  which  was  given  her  as  a  dovry  for 
the  term  of  her  natural  life ;  where  all  her  time  was  spent 
in  prayer  and  orisons  and  in  serving  God  and  his  poor,  \vith- 
out  giving  any  sign  of  the  wrong  that  was  done  her  by  such 
repudiation.  But  the  king  protested  that  he  had  been  forced 
to  marry  her  fearing  the  wrath  of  her  father,  Loais  XL, 
a  master-man,  and  declared  positively  that  he  had  never 
known  her  as  his  wife.  Thus  the  matter  was  allowed  to 
pass  ;  in  which  this  princess  showed  her  wisdom,  not  mak- 
ing the  reply  of  Eicharde  of  Scotland,  wife  of  Charles  le  Gros, 
King  of  France,  when  her  husband  repudiated  her,  affirming 
that  he  had  never  lived  with  her  as  his  wife.  "  That  is 
well,"  she  said, "  since  by  the  oath  of  my  husband  I  am  maid 
and  virgin."  By  those  words  she  scofTed  at  her  husband's 
oath  and  her  own  virginity. 

But  the  king  was  seeliing  to  recover  his  first  loves,  namely  ; 
Queen  Anne  and  her  noble  duchy,  which  gave  great  tempta- 
tions to  his  soul ;  and  that  was  why  he  repudiated  liis  wife. 
His  oath  was  believed  and  accepted  by  the  pope,  who  sent 
him  the  dispensation,  which  was  received  by  the  Sorbonne 
and  the  parliament  of  Paris.  In  all  of  which  this  princess 
was  wise  and  virtuous,  and  made  no  scandal,  nor  uproar, 
nor  appeal  to  justice,  because  a  king  can  do  much  and  just 
what  he  will ;  but  feeling  herself  strong  to  contain  herself 
in  continence  and  chastity,  she  retired  towards  God  and 
espoused  herself  to  Him  so  truly  that  never  another  husband 
nor  a  better  could  she  have. 

3.   Madame  Anne  de  France. 

After  her  comes  her  sister,  Anne  de  France,  a  shrewd 
woman  and  a  cunning  if  ever  there  was  one,  and  the  true 
image  of  King  Louis,  iier  fatlier.     Tlie  choice  made  of  her 


MESDAMES,  THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  FRANCE.     217 

to  be  guardian  and  administrator  of  her  brother,  King 
Charles  [VIII.],  proves  this,  for  she  governed  him  so  wisely 
and  virtuously  that  he  came  to  be  one  of  the  greatest  of 
the  kings  of  France,  who  was  proclaimed,  by  reason  of  his 
valour,  Emperor  of  the  East.  As  to  his  kingdom  she  ad- 
ministered that  in  like  manner.  True  it  is  that  because  of 
her  ambition  she  was  rather  mischief-making,  on  account  of 
the  hatred  she  bore  to  M.  d'Orldans,  afterwards  King  Louis 
XII.  I  have  heard  say,  however,  that  in  the  beginning  she 
loved  him  with  love ;  so  that  if  M.  d'Orldans  had  been  will- 
ing to  hear  to  her,  he  might  have  had  better  luck,  as  I  hold 
on  good  authority.  But  he  could  not  constrain  himself,  all 
the  more  because  he  saw  her  so  ambitious,  and  he  wished 
his  wife  to  depend  upon  him  as  first  and  nearest  prince  to 
the  crown,  and  not  upon  herself ;  while  she  desired  the 
contrary,  for  she  wanted  to  hold  the  highest  place  and  to 
govern  in  all  things. 

She  was  very  vindictive  in  temper  like  her  father,  and 
always  a  sly  dissembler,  corrupt,  full  of  deceit,  and  a  great 
hypocrite,  who,  for  the  sake  of  her  ambition,  could  mask 
and  disguise  herself  in  any  way.  So  that  the  kingdom, 
beginning  to  be  angry  at  her  humours,  although  she  was 
wise  and  virtuous,  bore  with  them  so  impatiently  that  when 
the  king  went  to  Naples  she  no  longer  had  the  title  of  regent, 
but  her  husband,  M.  de  Bourbon,  received  it.  It  is  true, 
however,  that  she  made  him  do  what  she  had  in  her  head, 
for  she  ruled  him  and  knew  how  to  guide  him,  all  the 
better  because  he  was  rather  foolish,  —  indeed,  very  much 
so ;  but  the  Council  opposed  and  controlled  her.  She  en- 
deavoured to  use  her  prerogative  and  authority  over  Queen 
Anne,  but  there  she  found  the  boot  on  the  other  foot,  as 
they  say,  for  Queen  Anne  was  a  shrewd  Bretonne,  as  I  have 
told  already,  who  was  very  superb  and  haughty  towards  her 


218  THE  BOOK  OF  THE   LADIES. 

equals ;  so  that  Madame  Anne  was  forced  to  lower  her 
sails  and  leave  the  queen,  her  sister-in-law,  to  keep  her  rank 
and  maintain  her  grandeur  and  majesty,  as  was  reasonable  ; 
which  made  Madame  Anne  very  angry ;  for  she,  being 
virtually  regent,  held  to  her  grandeur  terribly. 

I  have  read  many  letters  from  her  to  our  family  in  the 
days  of  her  greatness  ;  but  never  did  I  see  any  of  our  kings 
(and  I  have  seen  many)  talk  and  write  so  bravely  and  im- 
periously as  she  did,  as  much  to  the  great  as  to  the  small. 
Of  a  surety,  she  was  a  maitresse  femmc,  though  quarrelsome, 
and  if  M.  d'Orl^ans  had  not  been  captured  and  his  luck  had 
not  served  him  ill,  she  would  have  thrown  Franco  into 
turmoil;  and  all  for  her  ambition,  which  so  long  as  she 
Hved  she  never  could  banish  from  her  soul,  —  not  even  when 
retired  to  her  estates,  where,  nevertheless,  she  pretended  to  be 
pleased  and  where  she  held  her  Court,  which  was  always,  as  I 
have  heard  my  grandmother  say,  very  fine  and  grand,  she 
being  accompanied  by  great  numbers  of  ladies  and  maids  of 
honour,  whom  she  trained  very  wisely  and  virtuously.  In 
fact  she  gave  such  fine  educations  (as  I  know  from  my  grand- 
mother) that  there  were  no  ladies  or  daughters  of  great 
houses  in  her  time  who  did  not  receive  lessons  from  her,  the 
house  of  Bourbon  being  one  of  the  greatest  and  most 
splendid  in  Christendom.  And  indeed  it  was  she  who  made 
it  so  brilliant,  for  though  she  was  opulent  in  estates  and 
riches  of  her  own,  she  played  her  liand  so  well  in  the 
regency  that  she  gained  a  great  deal  more ;  all  of  v/hich 
served  to  make  the  house  of  Bourbon  more  daz/ling.  Be- 
sides being  splendid  and  magnificent  by  nature  and  unwilling 
to  diminish  by  ever  so  little  her  early  grandeur,  she  also  did 
many  great  kindnesses  to  those  whom  she  liked  and  took 
in  hand.  To  end  all,  this  Anne  de  Franco  was  very  clever 
and  sufficiently  good.     I  have  now  said  enougli  about  her. 


MESDAMES,  THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  FRANCE.  219 

4.   Madame  Claude  de  France. 

I  must  now  speak  of  Madame  Claude  de  France,  who  was 
very  good,  very  charitable,  and  very  gentle  to  all,  never  do- 
ing any  unkindness  or  harm  to  any  one  either  at  her  Court 
or  in  the  kingdom.  She  was  much  beloved  by  King  Louis 
[XII.]  and  Queen  Anne,  her  father  and  mother,  being  their 
good  and  best-loved  daughter,  as  they  showed  her  plainly; 
for  after  the  king  was  peaceably  Duke  of  Milan  they  de- 
clared and  proclaimed  her,  in  the  parliament  of  Paris  with 
open  doors,  duchess  of  the  two  finest  duchies  in  Christen- 
dom, to  wit,  Milan  and  Bretagne,  the  one  coming  from  her 
father,  the  other  from  her  mother.  What  an  heiress,  if  you 
please !  These  two  duchies  joined  together  made  a  noble 
kingdom. 

Queen  Anne,  her  mother,  desired  to  marry  her  to  Charles 
of  Austria,  afterwards  emperor,  and  had  she  lived  she  would 
have  done  so,  for  in  that  she  influenced  the  king,  her  hus- 
band, wishing  always  to  have  the  sole  charge  and  care  of  the 
marriage  of  her  daughters.  Never  did  she  call  them  other- 
wise than  by  their  names :  "  My  daughter  Claude,"  and  "  My 
daughter  Een^e."  In  these  our  days,  estates  and  seigneuries 
must  be  given  to  daughters  of  princesses,  and  even  of  ladies, 
by  which  to  call  them  !  If  Queen  Anne  had  lived,  never 
would  Madame  Claude  have  been  married  to  King  Frangois 
[I.]  for  she  foresaw  the  evil  treatment  she  was  certain  to 
receive ;  the  king,  her  husband,  giving  her  a  disease  that 
shortened  her  days.  Also,  Madame  la  regente  treated  her 
harshly.  But  she  strengthened  her  soul  as  much  as  she 
could,  by  her  sound  mind  and  gentle  patience  and  great 
wisdom,  to  endure  these  troubles,  and  in  spite  of  all,  she 
bore  the  king,  her  husband,  a  fine  and  generous  progeny, 
namely  :  three  sons,  Frangois,  Henri,  and  Charles ;  and  four 
daughters,  Louise,  Charlotte,  Magdelaine,  and  Marguerite. 


220  THE   BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

She  was  mucli  beloved  by  her  husband,  King  Frangois  [I.], 
and  well  treated  by  him  and  by  all  France,  and  much  re- 
gretted when  she  died  for  her  admirable  virtues  and  good- 
ness. I  have  read  in  the  "  Chronique  d'Anjou "  that  after 
her  death  her  body  worked  miracles ;  for  a  great  lady  of  her 
family  being  tortured  one  day  with  a  hot  fever,  and  having 
made  her  a  vow,  recovered  her  health  suddenly. 

5.   Madame  Rence  de  France. 

Madame  Een^e,  her  sister,  was  also  a  very  good  and  able 
princess  ;  for  she  had  as  sound  and  subtle  mind  as  could  be. 
She  had  studied  much,  and  I  have  heard  her  discoursing 
learnedly  and  gravely  of  the  sciences,  even  astrology,  and 
knowledge  of  the  stars,  about  which  I  heard  her  talking 
one  day  with  the  queen-mother,  who  said,  after  hearing  lier, 
that  the  greatest  philosopher  in  the  world  could  not  have 
spoken  better. 

She  was  promised  in  marriage  to  the  Emperor  Charles,  by 
King  Franqois ;  but  the  war  interrupting  that  marriage,  she 
was  given  to  the  Due  de  Ferrara,  who  loved  her  much  and 
treated  her  honourably  as  the  daughter  of  a  king.  True  it 
is  they  were  for  a  time  rather  ill  together  because  of  the 
Lutheran  religion  he  suspected  her  of  liking.  Possibly ;  for 
resenting  the  ill-turns  the  popes  had  done  to  her  father  in 
every  way,  she  denied  their  power  and  refused  obedience, 
not  being  able  to  do  worse,  she  being  a  woman.  I  hold  on 
good  authority  that  she  said  this  often.  Her  husband, 
nevertheless,  having  regard  to  her  illustrious  blood,  respected 
her  always  and  honoured  her  much.  Like  her  sister,  Queen 
Claude,  she  was  fortunate  in  her  issue,  for  she  bore  to  her 
husband  the  finest  that  was,  I  believe,  in  Italy,  although  she 
herself  was  much  weakened  in  body. 

She  had  the  Due  de  Ferrara,  who  is  to-day  one  of  the 


MESDAMES,   THE   DAUGHTERS   OF   FRANCE.  221 

handsomest  princes  in  Italy  and  very  wise  and  generous; 
the  late  Cardinal  d'Est,  the  kindest,  most  magnificent  and 
liberal  man  in  the  world  (of  whom  I  hope  to  speak  here- 
after) ;  and  three  daughters,  the  most  beautiful  women  ever 
born  in  Italy :  Madame  Anne  d'Est,  afterwards  Mme.  de 
Guise  ;  Madame  Lucrezia,  Duchesse  d'Urbino  ;  and  Madame 
Leonora,  who  died  unmarried.  The  first  two  bore  the  names 
of  their  grandmothers :  one  from  Anne  de  Bretagne  on  her 
mother's  side ;  the  other,  on  the  father's  side,  from  Lucrezia 
Borgia,  daughter  of  Pope  Alexander  [VI.],  both  very  different 
in  manners  as  in  character,  although  the  said  lady  Lucrezia 
Borgia  was  a  charming  princess  of  Spanish  extraction, 
gifted  with  beauty  and  virtue  (see  Guicciardini).  Madame 
Leonora  was  named  after  Queen  Leonora.  These  daughters 
were  very  handsome,  but  their  mother  embellished  them 
still  more  by  the  noble  education  that  she  gave  them,  mak- 
ing them  study  sciences  and  good  letters,  the  which  they 
learned  and  retained  perfectly,  putting  to  shame  the  greatest 
scholars.  So  that  if  they  had  beautiful  bodies  they  had 
souls  that  were  beautiful  also.  I  shall  speak  of  them 
elsewhere. 

Kow,  if  Madame  Een^e  was  clever,  intelligent,  wise,  and 
virtuous,  she  was  also  so  kind  and  understood  the  subjects 
of  her  husband  so  well  that  I  never  knew  any  one  in 
Ferrara  who  was  not  content  or  failed  to  say  all  the  good 
in  the  world  of  her.  They  felt  above  all  her  charity,  which 
she  had  in  great  abundance  and  principally  for  Frenchmen  ; 
for  she  had  this  good  thing  about  her,  that  she  never  for- 
got her  nation ;  and  though  she  was  thrust  far  away  from 
it,  she  always  loved  it  deeply.  No  Frenchman  passing 
through  Ferrara,  being  in  necessity  and  addressing  her,  ever 
left  v/ithout  an  ample  donation  and  good  money  to  return 
to  his  country  and  family,-  and  if  he  were  ill,  and  could 


222  THE   BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

not  travel,  she  had  him  treated  and  cured  carefully  and 
then  gave  him  money  to  return  to  France. 

I  have  heard  persons  who  know  it  well,  and  an  infinite 
number  of  soldiers  who  had  good  experience  of  it  say  that 
after  the  journey  of  M.  de  Guise  into  Italy,  she  saved  the 
lives  of  at  least  ten  thousand  poor  Frenchmen,  who  would 
have  died  of  starvation  and  want  without  her :  and  amon<T 
the  number  were  many  nobles  of  good  family.  I  have  heard 
some  of  them  say  that  never  could  they  have  reached  France 
without  her,  so  great  was  her  charity  and  liberality  to  those 
of  her  nation.  And  I  have  also  heard  her  maitre  d'hotel  as- 
sert that  their  food  had  cost  her  more  than  ten  thousand 
crowns ;  and  when  the  stewards  of  her  household  remon- 
strated and  showed  her  this  excessive  expense,  she  only 
said :  "  How  can  I  help  it  ?  These  are  poor  Frenchmen  of 
my  nation,  who,  if  God  had  put  a  beard  on  my  chin  and 
made  me  a  man,  would  now  be  my  subjects  ;  and  truly  they 
would  be  so  now  if  that  wicked  Salic  law  did  not  hold  me 
in  check." 

She  is  all  the  more  to  be  praised  because,  without  her,  the 
old  proverb  would  be  still  more  true,  namely,  that  "  Italy  is 
the  grave  of  Frenchmen." 

But  if  her  charity  was  shown  at  that  time  in  this  direction, 
I  can  assure  you  that  in  other  places  she  did  not  fail  to 
practise  it.  I  have  heard  several  of  her  household  say  that 
on  her  return  to  France,  having  retired  to  her  town  and 
house  of  Montargis  about  the  time  the  civil  wars  began  to 
stir,  she  gave  a  refuge  as  long  as  she  lived  to  a  number  of 
persons  of  the  TIeligion  [Eeformers]  who  were  driven  or 
banishel  from  their  bouses  and  estates  ;  she  aided,  succoured, 
and  fed  as  many  as  she  could. 

I  myself,  at  the  time  of  the  second  troubles,  was  with 
the  forces  in   Gascoigue,  commanded  by  MM.  de  Terridfes 


MESDAMES,  THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  FRANCE.  223 

and  de  Montsalfes,  amounting  to  eight  thousand  men,  then 
on  their  way  to  join  the  king.  We  passed  through  Mon- 
targis  and  went,  the  leaders,  chief  captains,  and  gentlemen, 
to  pay  our  respects  to  Madame  Ren^e,  as  our  duty  com- 
manded. We  saw  in  the  castle,  as  I  believe,  more  than 
three  hundred  persons  of  the  Religion,  who  had  taken 
refuge  there  from  all  parts  of  the  country.  An  old  maUre 
d'hotel,  a  very  honest  man,  whom  I  had  known  in  Ferrara, 
swore  to  me  that  she  fed  every  day  more  than  three  hun- 
dred mouths  of  these  poor  people. 

In  short,  this  princess  was  a  true  daughter  of  France  in 
kindness  and  charity.  She  had  also  a  great  and  lofty  heart. 
I  have  seen  her  in  Italy  and  at  Court,  hold  her  state  as  well 
as  possible;  and  though  she  did  not  have  an  external  ap- 
pearance of  grandeur,  her  body  being  weakened,  there  was 
so  much  majesty  in  her  royal  face  and  speech  that  she 
showed  plainly  enough  she  was  daughter  of  a  king  and  of 
France. 

6.   Mesdames  Charlotte,  Louise,  Magdelaine,  and  Marguerite 

de,  France. 

I  have  said  that  Madame  Claude  [wife  of  Frangois  I.] 
was  fortunate  in  her  fine  progeny  of  daughters  as  well  as  of 
sons.  First  she  had  Mesdames  Charlotte  and  Louise,  whom 
death  did  not  allow  to  reach  the  perfect  age  and  noble  fruit 
their  tender  youth  had  promised  in  sweet  flowers.  Had 
they  come  to  the  perfection  of  their  years  they  would  have 
equalled  their  sisters  in  mind  and  goodness,  for  their  promise 
was  great.  Madame  Louise  was  betrothed  to  the  Emperor 
when  she  died.  Thus  are  lovely  rosebuds  swept  away  by 
the  wind,  as  well  as  full-blown  flowers.  Youth  thus  ravished 
is  more  to  be  regretted  than  old  age,  which  has  had  its  day 
and  its  loss  is  not  great.     Almost  the  same  thing  happened 


224  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

to  Madame  Magdelaine,  their  sister,  who  had  no  great  time 
allowed  her  to  enjoy  the  thing  in  all  the  world  she  most 
desired ;  which  was,  to  he  a  queen,  so  proud  and  lofty  was 
her  heart. 

She  was  married  to  the  King  of  Scotland ;  and  when  they 
wanted  to  dissuade  her  —  not,  certainly,  that  he  was  not 
a  brave  and  handsome  prince,  hut  because  she  thus  con- 
demned herself  to  make  her  dwelling  in  a  barbarous  land 
among  a  brutal  people  —  she  replied :  "  At  least  I  shall  be 
queen  so  long  as  I  live ;  that  is  what  I  have  always  wished 
for."  But  when  she  amved  in  Scotland  she  found  that 
country  just  what  they  had  told  her,  and  very  different 
from  her  sweet  France.  Still,  without  one  sign  of  repent- 
ance, she  said  nothing  except  these  words  :  "  Alas  !  I  would 
be  queen,"  —  covering  her  sadness  and  the  fire  of  her  ambition 
with  the  ashes  of  patience  as  best  she  could.  M.  de  Ron- 
sard,  who  went  with  her  to  Scotland,  told  me  all  this  ;  he 
had  been  a  page  of  M.  d'Orleans,  who  allowed  him  to  go 
with  her,  to  see  the  world. 

She  did  not  live  long  a  queen  before  she  died,  regretted 
by  the  king  and  all  the  country,  for  she  was  truly  good,  and 
made  herself  beloved,  having,  moreover,  a  fine  mind,  and 
being  wise  and  virtuous. 

Her  sister,  Madame  IVIarguerite  de  France  [the  second  of 
the  three  Marguerites],  afterwards  Duchesse  de  Savoie,  was 
so  wise,  virtuous,  and  perfect  in  learning  and  knowledge 
that  she  was  called  the  Minerva,  or  the  Pallas,  of  France, 
and  for  device  she  bore  an  olive  branch  with  two  serpents 
entwining  it,  and  the  words :  Rerum  S"pientia  custos : 
signifying  that  all  things  are  ruled,  or  should  be,  by  wisdom 
—  of  which  she  had  much,  and  knowledge  also ;  improving 
them  ever  by  continual  study  in  the  afternoons,  and  by 
lessons  which  she  received  from  learned  men,  whom  she 


^^  '^ /// /  /v // r    ^/V 


MESDAMES,  THE  DAUGHTERS   OF   FRANCE.  225 

loved  above  all  other  sorts  of  people.  For  which  reason 
they  honoured  her  as  their  goddess  and  patron.  The  great 
quantity  of  noble  books  which  they  wrote  and  dedicated  to 
her  show  this,  and  as  they  have  said  enough  I  shall  say  no 
more  about  her  learning. 

Her  heart  was  grand  and  lofty.  King  Henri  wished  to 
marry  her  to  M.  de  Vendome,  first  prince  of  the  blood ;  but 
she  made  answer  that  never  would  she  marry  a  subject  of 
the  king,  her  brother.  That  is  why  she  was  so  long  with- 
out a  husband ;  until,  peace  being  made  between  the  two 
Christian  and  Catholic  kings,  she  was  married  to  M.  de 
Savoie,  to  whom  she  had  aspired  for  a  long  time,  ever  since 
the  days  of  King  Frangois,  when  Pope  Paul  III.  and  King 
Prangois  met  at  Nice,  and  the  Queen  of  Navarre  went,  by 
command  of  the  king,  to  see  the  late  Due  de  Savoie  in  the 
castle  of  Nice,  taking  with  her  Madame  Marguerite,  her 
niece,  who  was  thought  most  agreeable  by  M.  de  Savoie, 
and  very  suitable  for  his  son.  But  the  affair  dragged  on, 
because  of  the  great  war,  until  the  peace,  when  the  mar- 
riage was  made  and  consummated  at  great  cost  to  France ; 
for  all  that  we  had  conquered  and  held  in  Piedmont  and 
Savoie  for  the  space  of  thirty  years,  was  given  back  in  one 
hour ;  so  much  did  King  Henri  desire  peace  and  love  his 
sister,  not  sparing  anything  to  marry  her  well  But  all  the 
same,  the  greater  part  of  France  and  Piedmont  murmured 
and  said  it  was  too  much. 

Others  thought  it  very  strange,  and  others  very  incredible, 
until  they  had  seen  her ;  and  even  foreigners  mocked  at  us  : 
and  those  who  loved  France  and  her  true  good  wept,  and 
lamented,  especially  those  in  Piedmont  who  did  not  wish  to 
return  to  their  former  masters. 

As  for  the  French  soldiers,  and  the  war  companions  who 
had  so  long  enjoyed  the  garrisons,  charms,  and  fine  living  of 

15 


226  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

that  beautiful  country,  there  is  no  need  to  ask  what  they 
said,  nor  how  they  grumbled  and  were  desperate  and  be- 
moaned themselves.  Some,  more  Gascon  than  the  rest,  said  : 
"Hey!  cay  de  JDcoul  for  the  little  bit  of  flesh  of  that 
woman,  must  we  give  back  that  large  and  noble  piece  of 
earth  ? "  Others  :  "  A  fine  thing  truly  to  call  her  Minerva, 
goddess  of  chastity,  and  send  her  here  to  Piedmont  to  change 
her  name  at  our  expense  ! " 

I  have  heard  great  captains  say  that  if  Piedmont  had 
been  left  to  us,  and  only  Savoie  and  Bresse  given  up,  the 
marriage  would  still  have  been  very  rich  and  very  fine ;  and 
if  we  could  have  stayed  in  Piedmont  that  region  would 
have  served  as  a  school  and  an  amusement  to  the  French 
soldiers,  who  would  have  stayed  there  and  not  been  so 
eager  after  civil  wars,  —  it  being  the  nature  of  Frenchmen  to 
busy  themselves  always  with  the  toils  of  Mars,  and  to  hate 
idleness,  rest,  and  peace. 

But  such  was  now  the  unhappy  fate  of  France.  It  was 
thus  that  peace  was  bought,  and  Madame  de  Savoie  could 
not  help  it ;  although  she  never  desired  the  ruin  of  France  ; 
on  the  contrary,  she  loved  nothing  so  much  as  the  people 
of  her  nation ;  and  if  she  received  benefits  from  them  she 
was  not  ungrateful,  but  served  them  and  succoured  them 
all  she  could ;  and  as  long  as  she  lived  she  persuaded  and 
won  her  husband.  Monsieur  de  Savoie,  to  keep  the  peace, 
and  not  combine,  he  being  a  Spaniard  for  life,  against  France, 
which  he  did  as  soon  as  she  was  dead.  For  then  he  stirred 
up,  supported,  and  strengthened  secretly  M.  le  ]\Iar(?chal  de 
Bellegarde  to  do  what  he  did  and  to  rebel  against  the  king, 
and  seize  upon  the  marquisate  of  Saluces  (which  I  shall 
speak  of  elsewhere) ;  in  which  certainly  his  Highness  did 
great  wrong,  and  ill  returned  the  benefits  received  from  the 
Kings   of    France   his   relatives,   especially   our    late   King 


MESDAMES,  THE  DAUGHTERS  OF   FRANCE.  227 

Henri  III.,  who,  on  his  return  from  Poland,  gave  him  so 
liberally  Pignerol  and  Savillan. 

Many  well-advised  persons  believe  that  if  Madame  de 
Savoie  had  lived  she  would  have  died  sooner  than  allow 
that  blow,  so  grateful  did  she  feel  to  the  land  of  her  birth. 
And  I  have  heard  a  very  great  person  say  that  he  thought 
that  if  Madame  de  Savoie  were  living  and  had  seen  her  son 
seize  upon  the  marquisate  of  Saluces  (as  he  did  in  the  time 
of  the  late  king),  she  would  have  strangled  him ;  indeed* 
the  late  king  himself  thought  so  and  said  so.  That  king, 
Henri  III.,  felt  such  wrath  at  that  stroke  that  the  morning 
when  the  news  reached  him,  as  he  was  about  to  take  the 
sacrament,  he  put  off  that  act  and  would  not  do  it,  so  excited, 
angry,  and  scrupulous  was  he,  within  as  well  as  without ; 
and  he  always  said  that  if  his  aunt  had  lived  it  would  never 
have  happened. 

Such  was  the  good  opinion  this  good  princess  left  in  the 
mxjnds  of  the  king  and  of  other  persons.  And  to  tell  the 
truth,  as  I  know  from  high  authority,  if  she  had  not  been 
so  good  never  would  the  king  or  his  council  have  portioned 
her  with  such  great  wealth,  which,  surely,  she  never  spared 
for  France  and  Frenchmen.  No  Frenchman  could  com- 
plain, when  addressing  her  for  his  necessities  in  going  or 
coming  across  the  mountains,  that  she  did  not  succour  and 
assist  him  and  give  him  good  money  to  help  him  on  his 
way.  I  know  that  when  we  returned  from  Malta,  she  did 
great  favours  and  gave  much  money  to  many  Frenchmen 
who  addressed  her  and  asked  her  for  it ;  and  also,  without 
being  asked,  she  offered  it.  I  can  say  that,  as  knowing  it 
myself ;  for  Mme.  de  Pontcarlier,  sister  of  M.  de  Eetz,  who 
was  Madame  de  Savoie's  favourite  and  lady  of  honour,  asked 
me  to  supper  one  evening  in  her  room,  and  gave  me,  in  a 
purse,  five  hundred  crowns  on  behalf  of  the  said  Madame, 


228  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

who  loved  my  aunt,  Mme.  de  Dampierre,  extremely  and  had 
also  loved  my  mother.  But  I  can  swear  with  truth  and 
security  that  I  did  not  take  a  penny  of  it,  for  I  had  enough 
with  me  to  take  me  back  to  Court ;  and  had  I  not,  I  would 
rather  have  gone  on  foot  than  be  so  shameless  and  impudent 
as  to  beg  of  such  a  princess.  I  knew  many  who  did  not  do 
like  that,  but  took  very  readily  what  they  could  get. 

I  have  heard  one  of  her  stewards  say  that  every  year  she 
put  away  in  a  coffer  a  third  of  her  revenue  to  give  to  poor 
Frenchmen  who  passed  through  Savoie.  That  is  the  good 
Frenchwoman  that  she  was ;  and  no  one  should  complain 
of  the  wealth  she  took  from  France;  and  it  was  all  her  joy 
when  she  heard  good  news  from  there,  and  all  her  grief 
when  it  was  bad. 

When  the  first  wars  broke  out  she  felt  such  woe  she  thought 
to  die  of  it;  and  when  peace  was  made  and  she  came  to 
Lyon  to  meet  the  king  and  the  queen-mother,  she  could  not 
rejoice  enough,  begging  the  queen  to  tell  her  all ;  and  show- 
incr  anger  to  several  Huguenots,  telling  them  and  writing 
them  that  they  stirred  up  strife,  and  urging  them  not  to  do 
so  again ;  for  they  honoured  her  much  and  had  faith  in  her, 
because  she  gave  pleasure  to  many ;  indeed  M.  I'Arairal 
[Coligny]  would  not  have  enjoyed  his  estates  in  Savoie  had 
it  not  been  for  her. 

When  the  civil  wars  came  on  in  Flanders  she  was  the 
first  to  tell  us  on  our  arrival  from  Malta ;  and  you  may  be 
sure  she  was  not  sorry  for  them  ;  "  for,"  said  she,  "  those 
Spaniards  rejoiced  and  scoffed  at  us  for  our  discords,  but  now 
that  they  have  their  share  they  will  scoff  no  longer." 

She  was  so  beloved  in  the  lands  and  countries  of  her  hus- 
band that  when  she  died  tears  flowed  from  the  eyes  of  all, 
both  great  and  small,  so  that  for  long  they  did  not  dry  nor 
cease.     She  spoke  for  every  one  to  her  husband  when  they 


MESDAMES.  THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  FRANCE.  229 

"were  in  trouble  and  adversity,  in  pain  or  in  fault,  request- 
ing favour  or  pardon,  which  without  her  intercessions  they 
would  often  not  have  had.  Thus  they  called  her  their 
patron-saint. 

In  short,  she  was  the  blessing  of  the  world ;  in  all  ways, 
as  I  have  said,  charitable,  munificent,  liberal,  wise,  virtuous, 
and  so  accessible  and  gentle  as  never  was,  principally  to 
those  of  her  nation ;  for  when  they  went  to  do  her  reverence 
she  received  them  with  such  welcome  they  were  shamed ; 
the  most  unimportant  gentlemen  she  honoured  in  the  same 
way,  and  often  did  not  speak  to  them  until  they  were  cov- 
ered. I  know  what  I  say,  for,  speaking  with  her  on  one 
occasion,  she  did  me  this  honour,  and  urged  and  commanded 
me  so  much  that  I  was  constrained  to  say :  "  Madame,  I 
think  you  do  not  take  me  for  a  Frenchman,  but  for  one  v/ho 
is  ignorant  who  you  are  and  the  rank  you  hold  ;  but  I  must 
honour  you  as  belongs  to  me."  She  never  spoke  to  any  one 
sitting  down  herself,  but  always  standing  ;  unless  they  were 
principal  personages,  and  those  I  saw  speaking  to  her  she 
obliged  to  sit  beside  her. 

To  conclude,  one  could  never  tell  all  the  good  of  this 
princess  as  it  was  ;  it  would  need  a  worthier  writer  than  I 
to  represent  her  virtues.  I  shall  be  silent,  therefore,  till 
some  future  time,  and  begin  to  tell  of  the  daughters  of  our 
King  Henri  [II.  and  Catherine  de'  Medici],  JMesdames 
EHsabeth,  Claude,  and  Marguerite  de  France. 

7.   Mesdames  FlisahdJi,  Claude,  and  3Iarguerite  de  Fra.nce. 

I  begin  by  the  eldest,  Madame  Elisabeth  de  France,  or 
rather  I  ought  to  call  her  the  beautiful  Elisabeth  of  the 
world  on  account  of  her  rare  virtues  and  perfections,  tlie 
Queen  of  Spain,  beloved  and  honoured  by  her  people  in  her 
lifetime,  and  deeply  regretted  and  mourned  by  the  sam^e  after 


230  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

death,  as  I  have  said  already  in  the  Discourse  I  made  upon 
her.  Therefore  1  shall  content  myself  for  the  present  in 
writing  no  more,  but  will  speak  of  her  sister,  the  second 
daughter  of  King  Henri,  Madame  Claude  de  Prance  (the 
name  of  her  grandmother),  Duchesse  de  Lorraine,  who  was 
a  beautiful,  wise,  virtuous,  good,  and  gentle  princess.  So 
that  every  one  at  Court  said  that  she  resembled  her  mother 
and  aunt  and  was  their  real  image.  She  had  a  certain 
gayety  in  her  face  which  pleased  all  those  who  looked  at 
her.  In  her  beauty  she  resembled  her  mother,  in  her 
knowledge  and  kindness  she  resembled  her  aunt;  and  the 
people  of  Lorraine  found  her  ever  kind  as  long  as  she  lived, 
as  I  myself  have  seen  when  I  went  to  that  country ;  and 
after  her  death  they  found  much  to  say  of  her.  In  fact,  by 
her  death  that  land  was  filled  with  regrets,  and  M.  de 
Lorraine  mourned  her  so  much  that,  though  he  was  young 
when  widowed  of  her,  he  would  not  marry  again,  saying  he 
could  never  find  her  like,  though  could  he  do  so  he  would 
remarry,  not  being  disinclined. 

She  left  a  noble  progeny  and  died  in  childbed,  through 
the  appetite  of  an  old  midwife  of  Paris,  a  drunkard,  in 
whom  she  had  more  faith  than  in  any  other. 

The  news  of  her  death  reached  Eeims  the  day  of  the 
king's  coronation,  and  all  the  Court  were  in  mourning  and 
extreme  sadness,  for  her  kindness  was  shown  to  all  when 
she  came  there.  The  last  time  .she  came,  the  king,  her 
brother,  made  her  a  gift  of  the  ransoms  of  Guyenno,  which 
came  from  the  confiscations  that  took  place  there  ;  but  the 
ransoms  were  made  so  heavy  that  often  they  exceeded  the 
value  of  the  confiscations. 

Mme.  de  Dampierre  asked  her  for  one,  one  day  when  I 
was  present,  for  a  gentleman  whom  T  know.  The  princess 
made  answer :  "  Mme.  de  Dampierre,  T  give  it  to  you  with 


MESDAMES,  THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  FRANCE.  231 

all  my  heart,  having  merely  accepted  this  gift  from  the 
king,  my  brother,  not  having  asked  for  it;  he  gave  it  to 
me  of  his  own  good-will;  not  to  injure  France,  for  I  am 
French  and  love  all  those  who  are  so  like  myself ;  they  will 
have  more  courtesy  from  me  than  from  another  who  might 
have  had  that  gift;  therefore  what  they  want  of  me  and 
ask  of  me  I  will  give."  And  truly,  those  who  had  to  do 
with  her  found  her  all  courtesy,  gentleness,  and  goodness. 

In  short,  she  was  a  true  daughter  of  France,  having  good 
mind  and  ability,  which  she  proved  by  seconding  wisely  and 
ably  her  husband,  M.  de  Lorraine,  in  the  government  of  his 
seigneuries  and  principalities. 

After  this  Claude  de  France,  comes  that  beautiful  Mar- 
guerite de  France,  Queen  of  Navarre,  of  whom  I  have 
already  spoken ;  for  which  reason  I  am  silent  here,  awaiting 
another  time  ;  for  I  think  that  April  in  its  springtime  never 
produced  such  lovely  flowers  and  verdure  as  this  princess 
of  ours  produced  blooming  at  all  seasons  in  noble  and 
diverse  ways,  so  that  all  the  good  in  the  world  could  be 
said  of  her. 

8.   Madame  Diane  de  France. 

Nor  must  I  forget  Madame  Diane  de  France ;  although 
she  was  bastard  and  a  natural  child,  we  must  place  her  in 
the  rank  of  the  daughters  of  France,  because  she  w^as  ac- 
kuowledLi'ed  by  the  late  King  Henri  [II.]  and  legitimatized 
and  afterwards  dowered  as  daughter  of  France ;  for  she 
was  given  the  duchy  of  Chastellerault,  which  she  quitted  to 
be  Duehesse  d'Angouleme,  a  title  and  estate  she  retains  at 
this  day,  with  all  the  privileges  of  a  daughter  of  France, 
even  to  that  of  entering  the  cabinets  and  state  business  of 
her  brothers,  King  Charles  and  King  Henri  III.  (where  I 
have  often  seen  her),  as  though  she  were  their  own  sister. 


232  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

Indeed,  they  loved  her  as  such.  She  had  much  resemblance 
to  King  Henri,  her  father,  as  much  in  features  of  the  face 
as  in  habits  and  actions.  She  loved  all  the  exercises  that 
he  loved,  whether  arms,  hunting,  or  horses.  I  think  it  is 
not  possible  for  any  lady  to  look  better  on  horseback  than 
she  did,  or  to  have  better  grace  in  riding, 

I  have  heard  say  (and  read)  from  certain  old  persons,  that 
little  King  Charles  YIII.  being  in  his  kingdom  of  Naples, 
Mme.  la  Princesse  de  Melfi,  coming  to  do  him  reverence, 
showed  him  her  daughter,  beautiful  as  an  angel,  mounted 
on  a  noble  courser,  managing  him  so  well,  with  all  the  airs 
and  paces  of  the  ring,  that  no  equerry  could  have  done 
better,  and  the  king  and  all  his  Court  were  in  great  admira- 
tion and  astonishment  to  see  such  beauty  so  dexterous  on 
horseback,  yet  without  doing  shame  to  her  sex. 

Those  who  have  seen  Madame  d'Angouleme  on  horse- 
back were  as  much  delighted  and  amazed ;  for  she  was  so 
born  to  it  and  had  such  grace  that  she  resembled  in  that 
respect  the  beautiful  Camilla,  Queen  of  the  Volsci ;  she  was 
so  grand  in  body  and  shape  and  face  that  it  was  hard  to 
find  any  one  at  Court  as  superb  and  graceful  at  that  exercise ; 
nor  did  she  exceed  in  any  way  the  proper  modesty  and  gen- 
tleness ;  indeed,  hke  the  Princesse  Melfi,  she  outdid  modesty ; 
except  when  she  rode  through  the  country,  when  she  showed 
some  pretty  performances  that  were  very  agreeable  to  those 
who  beheld  them. 

I  remember  that  M.  le  Mar^chal  d'Amville,  her  brother- 
in-law,  gave  her,  once  upon  a  time,  a  very  fine  horse,  which 
he  named  le  Docteur,  because  he  stepped  so  daintily  and  ad- 
vanced curveting  with  such  precision  and  nicety  that  a 
doctor  could  not  have  been  wiser  in  his  actions ;  and  that 
is  why  he  called  him  so.  I  saw  Madame  d'Angouleme 
make  that  horse  go  more  than  three  hundred  steps  pacing 


^ 


''    /'/////      , //■      ■    '' /-f  / //  /  r 


MESDAMES,  THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  FRANCE.  233 

in  that  way ;  and  often  the  whole  Court  was  amused  to  see 
it,  and  could  not  tell  which  to  admire  most,  her  firm  seat, 
or  her  beautiful  grace.  Always,  to  add  to  her  lustre,  she 
was  finely  attired  in  a  handsome  and  rich  riding-dress,  not 
forgetting  a  hat  well  garnished  with  plumes,  worn  ^  la 
Guelfe,  Ah !  what  a  pity  it  is  when  old  age  comes  to  spoil 
such  beauties  and  blemish  such  virtues;  for  now  she  has 
left  all  that,  and  quitted  those  exercises,  and  also  the  hunt- 
ing which  became  her  so  much ;  for  nothing  was  ever  unbe- 
coming to  her  in  her  gestures  and  manners,  like  the  king, 
her  father,  —  she  taking  pains  and  pleasure  in  what  she  did, 
at  a  ball,  in  dancing;  indeed  in  whatever  dance  it  was, 
whether  grave  or  gay,  she  was  very  accomplished. 

She  sang  well,  and  played  well  on  the  lute  and  other  in- 
struments. In  fact,  she  is  her  father's  daughter  in  that,  as 
she  is  in  kindness,  for  indeed  she  is  very  kind,  and  never 
gives  pain  to  any  one,  although  she  has  a  grand  and  lofty 
heart,  but  her  soul  is  generous,  wise,  and  virtuous,  and  she 
has  been  much  beloved  by  both  her  husbands. 

She  was  first  married  to  the  Due  de  Castro,  of  the  house 
of  Farnese,  who  was  killed  at  the  assault  at  Hesdin ;  secondly, 
to  M.  de  Montmorency,  who  made  some  difficulty  in  the 
beginning,  having  promised  to  marry  Mile,  de  Pienne,  one 
of  the  queen's  maids  of  honour,  a  beautiful  and  virtuous 
girl ;  but  to  obey  a  father  who  was  angry  and  threatened 
to  disinherit  him,  he  obtained  his  release  from  his  first 
premise  and  married  Madame  Diane.  He  lost  nothing  by 
the  change,  though  the  said  Pienne  came  from  one  of  the 
greatest  families  in  France,  and  was  one  of  the  most  beautiful, 
virtuous,  and  wise  ladies  of  the  Court,  whom  Madame  Diane 
loved,  and  has  always  loved  without  any  jealousy  of  her 
past  afTections  with  her  husband.  She  knows  how  to  con- 
trol herself,  for  she  is  very  intelligent  and  of  good  under- 


234  THE   BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

standing.  The  kings,  her  brothers,  and  Monsieur  loved  her 
much,  and  so  did  the  queens  and  duchesses,  her  sisters,  for 
she  never  shamed  them,  being  so  perfect  in  all  things. 

King  Charles  loved  her,  because  she  went  with  him  to  his 
hunts  and  other  joyous  amusements,  and  was  always  gay  and 
good-humoured. 

King  Henri  [III.]  loved  her,  because  he  knew  that  she 
loved  him  and  liked  to  be  with  him.  When  war  arose  so 
cruelly  on  the  death  of  M.  de  Guise,  knowing  the  king,  her 
brother,  to  be  in  need,  she  started  from  her  house  at  Isle- 
Adam,  in  a  diligence,  not  without  running  great  risks,  being 
watched  for  on  the  road,  and  took  him  fifty  thousand  crowns, 
which  she  had  saved  from  her  revenues,  and  gave  them  to 
him.  They  arrived  most  h,  propos  and,  as  I  believe,  are  still 
owing  to  her ;  for  which  the  king  felt  such  good-will  that 
had  he  lived  he  would  have  done  great  things  for  her,  hav- 
ing tested  her  fine  nature  in  his  utmost  need.  And  since 
his  death  she  has  had  no  heart  for  joy  or  profit,  so  much 
did  she  regret  and  still  regrets  him,  and  longs  for  vengeance, 
if  her  power  were  equal  to  her  will,  on  those  who  killed  him. 
But  never  has  our  present  king  [Henri  IV.]  consented  to  it, 
whatever  prayer  she  makes,  she  holding  Mme.  de  Montpen- 
sier  guilty  of  the  death  of  the  king,  her  brother,  abhorring  her 
like  the  plague,  and  going  so  far  as  to  tell  her  before  IMadnme, 
the  king's  sister,  that  neither  Madame  nor  the  king  had  any 
honest  reason  to  love  her,  except  that  through  this  murder 
of  the  late  king  they  held  the  rank  they  did  liold.  What 
a  hunt !  I  hope  to  say  more  of  this  elsewhere  ;  therefore  am 
I  silent  now. 

9.    Marguerite  de  Valois,  Queen  of  Navarre. 

I  must  now  speak  somewhat  of  ]\rnro;nerite,  Queen  of 
Navarre.     Certainly  she  was  not  born  daughter  of  a  king  of 


MESDAMES,  THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  FRANCE.  235 

France,  nor  did  she  bear  the  name,  except  that  of  Valois  or 
d'Orl^ans,  because,  as  M.  du  Tillet  says  in  his  Memoirs,  the 
surname  of  France  does  not  belong  to  any  but  the  daughters 
of  France;  and  if  they  are  born  before  their  fathers  are 
kings  they  do  not  take  it  until  after  their  said  fathers' 
accession  to  the  crown.  Nevertheless  this  Marguerite,  as 
the  greatest  persons  of  those  days  have  said,  was  held  to  be 
daughter  of  France  for  her  great  virtues,  although  there 
was  some  WTong  in  putting  her  in  that  rank.  That  is  why 
we  place  her  here  among  the  Daughters  of  France.^ 

She  was  a  princess  of  very  great  mind  and  ability,  both 
by  nature  and  power  of  acquisition,  for  she  gave  herself  to 
letters  in  her  early  years  and  continued  to  do  so  as  long  as 
she  lived,  liking  and  conversing  with  the  most  learned  men 
in  her  brother's  kingdom  in  the  days  of  her  grandeur  and 
usually  at  Court.  They  all  so  honoured  her  that  they 
called  her  their  Maecenas ;  and  most  of  tlieir  books  com- 
posed at  that  period  were  dedicated  eitlier  to  her  brother, 
the  king,  who  was  also  learned,  or  to  her. 

She  herself  composed  well,  and  made  a  book  which  she 
entitled  "  La  Marguerite  des  Marguerites "  which  is  very 
fine  and  can  still  be  found  in  print.^  She  often  composed 
comedies  and  moralities,  which  were  called  in  those  days 
pastorals,  and  had  them  played  and  represented  by  the  maids 
of  honour  at  lier  Court. 

She  was  fond  of  composing  spiritual  songs,  for  her  heart 
was  much  given  to  God ;  and  for  that  reason  she  bore  as 
her  device  a  marigold,  Avhich  is  the  flower  that  has  the  most 
affinity  with  the  sun  of  any  there  is,  whether  in  similitude 
of  its  leaves  to  rays,  or  by  reason  of  the  fact  that  usually  it 

^  She  was  daughter  of  Cliarles,  Due  d'AngouIGuie,  and  Louise  de  Savoie, 
great-granddaughter  of  Charles  V.,  and  sister  of  Fran9ois  I.  —  Tr. 
2  See  Appendix. 


236  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

turns  to  the  sun  wherever  it  goes  from  east  to  west,  opening 
and  closing  according  to  its  rise  and  its  setting.  Also  she 
arranged  this  device  with  the  words:  Non  inferiora  secutun  — 
"  It  stops  not  for  earthly  things ; "  meaning  that  she  aimed 
and  directed  all  her  actions,  thoughts,  will,  and  affections  to 
that  great  sun  on  high  which  is  God ;  and  for  that  reason 
was  she  suspected  of  being  of  Luther's  religion.  But  out 
of  the  respect  and  love  she  bore  the  king,  her  brother,  wiio 
loved  her  only  and  called  her  his  darling  [his  mi'jnoiiiic~\ 
she  never  made  any  profession  or  semblance  of  that  religion ; 
and  if  she  believed  it  she  kept  it  in  her  soul  very  secretly, 
because  the  king  hated  it  much,  saying  that  that,  and  all 
other  new  sects,  tended  more  to  the  destruction  of  kingdoms, 
monarchies,  and  civil  dominions  than  to  the  edification  of 
souls. 

The  great  sultan,  Solyman,  said  the  same;  declaring  that 
however  much  it  upset  many  points  of  the  Christian  religion 
and  the  pope,  he  could  not  like  it,  "  because,"  he  said,  "  the 
monks  of  this  new  faith  are  only  seditious  mischief- 
makers,  who  can  never  rest  unless  they  are  stirring  up 
trouble."  That  is  why  King  Francois,  a  wise  prince  if  ever 
tliere  was  one,  foreseeing  the  miseries  that  would  come  in 
many  ways  to  Cliristianity,  hated  these  people  and  was 
rather  ritrorous  in  burninir  alive  the  heretics  of  his  dav. 
Nevertheless,  he  favoured  the  Protestant  princes  of  Ger- 
many against  the  emperor.  That  is  how  these  great  kings 
govern  as  they  please. 

I  have  lieard  a  trustworthy  person  relate  hov/  the  Con- 
netable  de  Montmorency,  in  the  days  of  his  greatij^t  favour, 
discoursing  of  this  with  the  king,  made  nc)  ditiiculty  or 
scruple  in  telling  him  that  if  he  wanted  to  exterminate  the 
heretics  of  his  kingdom  he  would  have  to  begin  with  his 
Court   and    his    nearest   relations,   namuig   tlie   queen,   his 


MESDAMES,  THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  FRANCE.  237 

sister.  To  which  the  king  replied :  "  Do  not  speak  of  her ; 
she  loves  me  too  well.  She  will  never  believe  except  as  I 
believe,  and  never  will  she  take  any  religion  prejudicial  to 
my  State."  After  which,  hearing  of  it,  she  never  liked  M. 
le  conn^table,  and  helped  much  in  his  disfavour  and  banish- 
ment from  Court.  Now  it  happened  that  the  day  on  which 
her  daughter,  the  Princesse  de  Navarre,  was  married  to  the 
Due  de  Clfeves  at  ChasteUerault,  the  bride  was  so  weighted 
with  jewels  and  with  her  gown  of  gold  and  silver  stuff  that 
her  body  was  too  weak  to  walk  to  church ;  on  which  the 
king  commanded  the  conn^table  to  take  his  niece  in  his  arms 
and  carry  her  to  the  church ;  which  amazed  tlie  Court  very 
much  ;  a  duty  like  that  being  little  suitable  and  honourable 
for  a  connetable,  and  might  have  been  given  very  well  to 
another.  But  the  Queen  of  Navarre  was  in  no  wise  displeased 
and  said :  "  The  man  who  tried  to  ruin  me  with  my  brother 
now  serves  to  carry  my  daughter  to  church." 

I  have  this  story  from  the  person  I  mentioned,  who  added 
that  M.  le  connetable  was  much  displeased  at  this  duty  and 
showed  great  vexation  at  being  made  such  a  spectacle,  say- 
ing :  "  It  is  all  over  with  my  favour,  I  bid  it  farewell."  And 
so  it  proved ;  for  after  the  fete  and  the  wedding  dinner,  he 
had  his  dismissal  and  departed  immediately.  I  heard  this 
from  my  brother,  who  was  then  a  page  at  Court  and  saw 
the  whole  mystery  and  remembered  it  well,  for  he  had  a 
good  memory.  Possibly  I  am  wearisome  in  making  this 
digression;  but  as  it  came  to  my  remembrance,  may  I  be 
forgiven. 

To  speak  again  of  the  learning  of  this  queen  :  it  was  such 
that  the  ambassadors  who  spoke  with  her  were  greatly 
delighted,  and  made  reports  of  it  to  their  nations  when 
they  returned ;  in  this  she  relieved  the  king,  her  brother, 
for  they  always  went  to  her  after  paying  their  chief  embassy 


238  THE  BOOK   OF   THE   LADIES. 

to  him ;  and  often  when  great  aifairs  were  concerned  they 
intrusted  them  to  her.  While  they  awaited  the  final  and 
complete  decision  of  the  king  she  knew  well  how  to  enter- 
tain and  content  them  with  fine  discourse,  in  which  she 
was  opulent,  besides  being  very  clever  in  pumpmg  them ;  so 
that  the  king  often  said  she  assisted  him  mucli  and  re- 
lieved him  a  great  deal.  Therefore  w^as  it  discussed,  as  I 
liave  heard  tell,  which  of  the  two  sisters  served  their 
brothers  best,  —  one  the  Queen  of  Hungary,  the  emperor ; 
the  other,  ]\Iarguerite,  King  Frangois ;  the  one  by  the  effects 
of  war,  the  other  by  the  efforts  of  her  charming  spirit  and 
gentleness. 

"When  King  Francois  was  so  ill  in  Spain,  being  a  prisoner, 
she  went  to  him  like  a  good  sister  and  friend,  under  the 
safe-conduct  of  the  emperor ;  and  finding  her  brother  in 
so  piteous  a  state  that  had  she  not  come  he  would  surely 
have  died,  and  knowing  his  nature  and  temperament  far 
better  than  all  liis  physicians,  she  treated  him  and  caused 
him  to  be  treated  so  well,  according  to  her  knowledge  of 
him,  that  she  cured  him.  Therefore  the  king  often  said 
that  without  her  he  would  have  died,  and  that  forever 
would  he  recognize  his  obligation  and  love  her  for  it ;  as  he 
did,  until  his  death.  She  returned  him  the  same  love,  so 
that  I  have  heard  say  how,  hearing  of  his  last  illness,  she 
said  these  words :  "  Whoever  conies  to  my  door  an<l  an- 
nounces the  cure  of  the  king,  my  brother,  whoever  may  be 
that  messenger,  be  he  lazy,  ill-humoured,  dirty  or  unclean,  I 
will  kiss  him  as  the  neatest  prince  and  gentleman  of  France, 
and  if  he  needs;  a  bed  to  repose  his  laziness  upon,  T  vv-ill  give 
him  mine  and  lie  myself  on  the  hardest  floor  for  the  good 
news  he  brings  me."  But  when  she  heard  of  his  death  her 
lamentations  were  so  great,  her  regrets  so  keen,  that  never 
after  did  she  recover  from  them,  nor  was  she  ever  as  before. 


MESDAMES,  THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  FRANCE.  239 

When  she  was  in  Spain,  as  I  have  heard  from  my  rela- 
tions, she  spoke  to  the  emperor  so  bravely  and  so  honestly 
on  the  bad  treatment  he  had  given  to  the  king,  her  brother, 
that  he  was  quite  amazed ;  for  she  showed  him  plainly  the 
ingratitude  and  felony  he  had  practised,  he,  a  vassal,  to  his 
seigneur  in  relation  to  Flanders ;  after  which  she  reproached 
him  for  his  hardness  of  heart  and  want  of  pity  to  so  great 
and  good  a  king  ;  saying  that  to  use  him  in  this  way  would 
never  win  a  heart  so  noble  and  royal  and  so  sovereign  as 
that  of  her  brother ;  and  that  if  he  died  of  such  treatment, 
his  death  would  not  remain  unpunished ;  he  having  children 
who  would  some  day,  when  they  grew  up,  take  signal 
vengeance. 

Those  words,  pronounced  so  bravely  and  with  such  deep 
anger,  gave  the  emperor  much  to  think  of,  —  so  much  indeed 
that  he  softened  and  visited  the  king  and  promised  him 
many  fine  things,  which  he  did  not,  nevertheless,  perform 
at  this  time. 

Xow^,  if  the  queen  spoke  so  well  to  the  emperor,  she 
spoke  still  more  strongly  to  his  council,  of  whom  she  had 
audience.  There  she  triumphed  in  speaking  and  haranguing 
nobly  with  that  good  grace  she  never  was  deprived  of ;  and 
she  did  so  well  with  her  fine  speech  that  she  made  herself 
more  pleasing  than  odious  and  vexatious,  —  all  the  more, 
withal,  that  she  was  young,  beautiful,  the  widow  of  M. 
d'Alengon,  and  in  the  flower  of  her  age ;  which  is  very 
suitable  to  move  and  bend  such  hard  and  cruel  persons.  In 
short,  she  did  so  well  that  her  reasons  were  thought  good 
and  pertinent,  and  she  was  held  in  great  esteem  by  the 
emperor,  his  council,  and  the  Court.  Nevertheless  he  meant 
to  play  her  a  trick,  because,  not  reflecting  on  the  expiration 
of  her  safe-conduct  and  passport,  she  took  no  heed  that  the 
time  was  elapsing.     But  getting  wind  that  the  emperor  as 


240  THE   BOOK   OF   THE   LADIES. 

soon  as  her  time  had  expired  meant  to  arrest  her,  she,  always 
courageous,  mounted  her  horse  and  rode  in  eight  days  a  dis- 
tance that  should  have  taken  fifteen;  which  effort  so  well 
succeeded  that  she  reached  the  frontier  of  France  very  late 
on  the  evening  of  the  day  her  passport  expired,  circumvent- 
ing thus  his  Imperial  Majesty  [_Sa  Cccsaree  Majestc']  wlio 
would  no  doubt  have  kept  her  had  she  overstayed  her  safe- 
conduct  by  a  single  day.  She  sent  him  word  and  wrote  liini 
this,  and  quarrelled  with  him  for  it  when  he  passed  through 
France.  I  heard  this  tale  from  Mme.  la  seneschale,  my 
grandmother,  who  was  with  her  at  that  time  as  lady  of 
honour. 

During  the  imprisonment  of  the  king,  her  brother,  she 
greatly  assisted  Mme.  la  regente,  her  mother,  in  governing 
the  kingdom,  contenting  the  princes,  the  grandees,  and  win- 
ning over  the  nobihty  ;  because  she  was  very  accessible,  and 
so  won  the  hearts  of  many  persons  by  the  fine  quahties 
she  had  in  her. 

In  short,  she  was  a  princess  worthy  of  a  great  empire ; 
besides  being  very  kind,  gentle,  gracious,  charitable,  a  great 
alms-giver  and  disdaining  none.  Therefore  was  she,  after 
her  death,  regretted  and  bemoaned  by  everybody.  The  most 
learned  persons  vied  with  each  other  in  making  her  epi- 
taph in  Greek,  Latin,  French,  Italian ;  so  much  so  that  there 
is  still  a  book  of  them  extant,  quite  complete  and  very 
beautiful. 

This  queen  often  said  to  this  one  and  that  one  who  dis- 
coursed of  death,  and  eternal  happiness  after  it :  "  All  that 
is  true,  but  we  sliall  stay  a  long  time  under  ground  before 
we  come  to  that."  I  have  heard  my  mother,  who  was  one 
of  her  ladies,  and  my  grandmother,  who  was  her  lady  of 
honour,  say  that  when  they  told  her  in  the  extremity  of  her 
illness  that   she  must  die,  she  thought  those  words  most 


MESDAMES,  THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  FRANCE.    241 

bitter,  and  repeated  what  I  have  told  above ;  adding  that  she 
was  not  so  old  but  that  she  might  live  on  for  many  years, 
being  only  fifty-two  or  fifty-three  years  old.  She  was  born 
under  the  10th  degree  of  Aquarius,  when  Saturn  was  parted 
from  Venus  by  quaternary  decumbiture,  on  the  10th  of 
April,  1492,  at  ten  in  the  evening ;  having  been  conceived 
in  the  year  1491  at  ten  hours  before  mid-day  and  seventeen 
minutes,  on  the  11th  of  July.  Good  astrologers  can  make 
their  computations  upon  that.  She  died  in  B^am,  at  the 
castle  of  Audaus  [Odos]  in  the  month  of  December,  1549. 
Her  age  can  be  reckoned  from  that.  She  was  older  than 
the  king,  her  brother,  who  was  born  at  Cognac,  September 
12th,  year  1494,  at  nine  in  the  evening,  under  the  21st  de- 
gree of  Gemini,  having  been  conceived  in  the  year  1493, 
December  10th,  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  became  king 
January  11th,  1514  [1515  new  style],  and  died  in  1547. 

This  queen  took  her  illness  by  looking  at  a  comet  which 
appeared  at  the  death  of  Pope  Paul  III. ;  slie  herself  thought 
this,  but  possibly  it  only  seemed  so ;  for  suddenly  her  mouth 
was  drawn  a  little  sideways ;  which  her  physician,  M.  d'Es- 
curanis,  observing,  he  took  her  away,  made  her  go  to  bed, 
and  treated  her;  for  it  was  a  chill  [_caferre'],  of  which  she 
died  in  eight  days,  after  having  well  prepared  herself  for 
death.  She  died  a  good  Christian  and  a  Catliolic,  against 
the  opinion  of  many ;  but  as  for  me,  I  can  affirm,  being  a 
little  boy  at  her  Court  with  my  mother  and  my  grandmother, 
that  we  never  saw  any  act  to  contradict  it ;  indeed,  having 
retired  to  a  monastery  of  women  in  Angoumois,  called 
Tusson,  on  the  death  of  the  king,  her  brother,  where  she 
made  her  retreat  and  stayed  the  whole  summer,  she  built 
a  fine  house  there,  and  was  often  seen  to  do  the  office  of 
abbess,  and  chant  masses  and  vespers  with  the  nuns  in  the 
choir. 

16 


242  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

I  have  heard  tell  of  her  that,  one  of  her  waitinjj-maids 
whom  she  liked  much  bemg  near  to  death,  she  wished  to  see 
her  die ;  and  when  she  was  at  the  last  gasp  and  rattle  of 
death,  she  never  stirred  from  beside  her,  gazing  so  fixedly 
upon  her  face  that  she  never  took  her  eyes  away  from  it 
until  she  died.  Some  of  her  most  privileged  ladies  asked 
her  why  she  took  such  interest  in  seeing  a  human  being 
pass  away ;  to  which  she  answered  that,  having  heard  so 
many  learned  persons  discourse  and  say  that  the  soul  and 
spirit  issued  from  the  body  at  the  moment  of  death,  she 
wished  to  see  if  any  wind  or  noise  could  be  perceived,  or 
the  shghtest  resonance,  but  she  had  noticed  nothing.  She 
also  gave  a  reason  she  had  heard  from  the  same  learned 
persons,  when  slie  asked  them  why  the  swan  sang  so  well 
before  its  death ;  to  which  they  answered  it  was  for  love 
of  souls,  that  strove  to  issue  through  its  long  throat.  In  like 
manner,  she  said,  she  had  hoped  to  see  issue  or  feel  rt-sound 
and  hear  that  soul  or  spirit  as  it  departed  ;  but  she  did  not. 
And  she  added  that  if  she  were  not  firm  in  her  faith  she 
should  not  know  what  to  think  of  this  dislodgment  and  de- 
parture of  the  soul  from  the  body  ;  but  she  believed  in  God 
and  in  what  her  Church  commanded,  without  seeking  further 
in  curiosity ;  for,  in  truth,  she  was  one  of  tho=e  ladies  as 
devotional  as  could  ever  be  seen ;  who  had  God  upon  her 
lips  and  feared  Him  also. 

In  her  gay  moments  she  wrote  a  book  which  is  entitled 
Lcs  Nouvelles  de  la  Reine  de  Navarre,  in  wliich  we  find  a 
style  so  sweet  and  fluent,  so  full  of  fine  discourse  and  noble 
sentences  that  I  have  heard  tell  how  the  queen- mother  and 
]\Iadame  de  Savoie,  being  young,  wished  to  join  in  writing 
tales  themselves  in  imitation  of  the  Queen  of  Xavarre ;  for 
they  knew  that  she  was  writing  them.  But  when  they  saw 
hers,  they  felt  such  disgust  that  theirs  could  not  approach 


MESDAMES,  THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  FRANCE,  243 

them  that  they  put  their  writings  in  the  fire,  and  would 
not  let  them  be  seen ;  a  great  pity,  however,  for  both  being 
very  witty,  nothing  that  was  not  good  and  pleasant  could 
have  come  from  such  great  ladies,  who  knew  many  good 
stories. 

Queen  Marguerite  composed  these  tales  mostly  in  her 
litter  travelling  through  the  country ;  for  she  had  many 
other  great  occupations  in  her  retirement.  I  have  heard 
this  from  my  grandmother,  who  always  went  with  her  in 
her  litter  as  lady  of  honour,  holding  the  inkstand  while  she 
wrote,  which  she  did  most  deftly  and  quickly,  more  quickly 
than  if  she  had  dictated.  There  was  no  one  in  the  world  so 
clever  at  making  devices  and  mottoes  in  French,  Latin,  and 
other  languages,  of  which  we  have  a  quantity  in  our  house, 
on  the  beds  and  tapestries,  composed  by  her.  I  have  said 
enough  about  her  at  this  time ;  elsewhere  I  shall  speak  of 
her  a^ain. 


The  Queen  of  Navarre,  sister  of  Francois  I.,  has  of  late 
years  frequently  occupied  the  minds  of  literary  and  learned 
men.  Her  Letters  have  been  published  with  much  care  ;  in 
the  edition  given  of  the  Poems  of  Frangois  I.  she  is  almost 
as  much  concerned  as  her  brother,  for  she  contributes  a 
good  share  to  the  volume.  At  the  present  time  [1853]  the 
Soci(^td  des  Bibliophiles,  considering  that  there  was  no  cor- 
rect edition  of  the  tales  and  Nouvelles  of  this  princess,  — 
because,  from  the  first,  the  early  editors  have  treated  tlie 
royal  author  with  great  freedom,  so  that  it  was  difficult  to 
find  the  true  text  of  that  curious  work,  more  famous  than 
read,  —  have  assumed  the  task  of  filling  this  literary  vacuum. 
The  Society  has  trusted  one  of  its  most  conscientious  members, 
M.  Le  Roux  de  Lincy,  with  compiling  an  edition  from  the 
original   manuscripts ;   and,  moreover,   wishing   to   give   to 


244  THE   BOOK   OF   THE   LADIES. 

this  publication  a  stamp  of  solidity,  that  air  of  good  old 
quality  so  pleasing  to  amateurs,  they  have  sought  for  old 
type,  obtaining  some  from  Nuremberg  dating  back  to  the 
first  half  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  have  caused  to  be 
cast  the  necessary  quantity,  which  has  been  used  in  printing 
the  present  work,  and  will  serve  in  futui'e  for  other  pubhca- 
tions  of  this  Society.  The  Xouvelles  cle  la  Eeine  de  Navarre 
are  presented,  with  a  portrait  of  the  author  and  a  fac-simile 
of  her  signature,  in  a  grave,  neat,  and  elegant  manner.  Let 
us  therefore  thank  this  Society,  composed  of  lovers  of  fine 
books,  for  having  thus  applied  their  good  taste  and  muuiii- 
cence,  and  let  us  come  to  the  study  of  the  personage  whom 
they  have  aided  us  to  know. 

Marguerite  de  Yalois,  the  first  of  the  three  Marguerites 
of  the  sixteenth  century,  does  not  altogether  resemble  the 
reputation  made  of  her  from  afar.  Born  at  the  ca-tle  of 
Angouleme,  April  11,  1492,  two  years  before  her  brother, 
who  will  in  future  be  Frangois  I.,  she  received  from  her 
mother,  Louise  de  Savoie,  early  a  widow,  a  virtuous  and 
severe  education.  She  learned  Spanish,  Italian,  Latin,  and 
later,  Hebrew  and  Greek.  All  these  studies  were  not  made 
at  once,  nor  in  her  earliest  youth.  Contemporary  of  the  great 
movement  of  the  Eenaissance,  she  shared  in  it  gradually  : 
she  endeavoured  to  comprehend  it  fully,  and  to  follow  it  in 
all  its  branches,  as  became  a  person  of  lofty  and  serious 
spirit,  with  a  full  and  facile  understanding  and  more  leisure 
than  if  she  had  been  born  upon  the  throne.  Brantome  pre- 
sents her  to  us  as  "  a  princess  of  ver}'  great  mind  and  ability, 
both  by  nature  and  power  of  acquisition."  She  continued  to 
acquire  as  long  as  she  lived  ;  she  protected  with  all  her  heart 
and  with  all  her  influence  the  learned  and  literary  men  of 
all  orders  and  kinds ;  profiting  by  them  and  their  intercourse 
for  her  own  advantage,  —  a  woman  who  could  cope  witb 


MESDAMES,  THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  PRANCE.  245 

Marot  in  the  play  of  verses  as  well  as  she  could  answer 
Erasmus  on  nobler  studies. 

We  must  not  exaggerate,  however ;  and  the  writings  of 
Marguerite  are  sutiiciently  numerous  to  allow  us  to  justly 
estimate  in  her  the  two  distinct  parts  of  originality  and 
simple  intelligence.  As  poet  and  writer  her  originahty  is 
of  small  account,  or,  to  speak  more  precisely,  she  has  none  at 
alL  Her  intelligence,  on  the  contrary,  is  great,  active,  eager, 
generous.  There  was  in  her  day  an  immense  movement  of 
the  human  spirit,  a  Cause  essentially  literary  and  liberal, 
which  hlled  all  minds  and  hearts  with  enthusiasm  as  public 
policy  did  much  later.  Marguerite,  young,  open  to  all  good 
and  noble  sentiments,  to  virtue  under  all  its  forms,  grew  pas- 
sionate for  this  cause ;  and  w^hen  her  brother  Francois  came 
to  the  throne  she  told  herself  that  it  was  her  mission  to  be 
its  good  genius  and  interpreter  beside  him,  and  to  show  her- 
self openly  the  patron  and  protectress  of  men  who  were  ex- 
citing against  themselves  by  their  learned  innovations  much 
pedantic  rancour  and  ill-wilL  It  was  thus  that  she  allowed 
herself  to  be  caught  and  won  insensibly  to  the  doctrines  of 
the  Reformers,  which  appealed  to  her,  in  the  first  instance, 
under  a  learned  and  literary  form.  Translators  of  Scripture, 
they  only  sought,  it  seemed  to  her,  to  propagate  its  spirit 
and  make  it  better  understood  by  pious  souls ;  she  enjoyed 
and  favoured  them  in  the  light  of  learned  men,  and  wel- 
comed them  as  loviiig  at  the  same  time  "  good  letters  and 
Christ ;  "  never  suspecting  any  factious  after-thought.  And 
even  after  she  appeared  to  be  undeceived  in  the  main,  she 
continued  to  the  last  to  plead  for  individuals  to  the  king, 
her  brother,  with  zeal  and  humanity. 

The  passion  that  Marguerite  had  for  that  brother  domi- 
nated all  else.  Slie  was  his  elder  by  two  years  and  a  half. 
Louise  de  Savoie,  the  young  widow,  was  only  fifteen  or  six- 


246  THE  BOOK  OF  THE   LADIES. 

teen  years  older  than  her  daughter.  These  two  women  had, 
the  one  for  her  son  the  other  i'or  her  brother,  a  love  that 
amounted  to  worship ;  they  saw  m  him,  who  was  really  to 
be  the  honour  and  crown  of  their  house,  a  dauphin  who 
would  soon,  when  his  reign  was  uiautrurated  at  Marifj-nano 
become  a  glorious  and  triumphant  Caesar. 

"  The  day  of  the  Conversion  of  Saint  Paul,  January  2b, 
1515,"  says  Madame  Louise  in  her  Journal,  "  my  son  was 
anointed  and  crowned  in  the  church  at  Pieims.  For  this  1 
am  very  grateful  to  the  Divine  mercy,  by  which  I  am  amply 
compensated  for  all  the  adversities  and  annoyances  which 
came  to  uie  in  my  early  years  and  in  the  flower  of  my  youth. 
Humility  has  kept  me  company,  and  Patience  has  never 
abandoned  me." 

And  a  few  months  later,  noting  down  with  pride  the  day 
of  Marignano  [victory  of  Frangois  I.  over  the  Swiss  and  the 
Duke  of  Milan,  making  the  French  masters  of  Lombardy], 
she  writes  in  the  transport  of  her  heart :  — 

"September  13,  which  was  Thursday,  1515,  my  son  van- 
quished and  destroyed  the  Swiss  near  Milan ;  beginning  tlie 
combat  at  five  hours  after  mid-day,  which  lasted  all  tlie  niglit 
and  the  morrow  till  eleven  o'clock  before  mid-day;  and  that 
very  day  I  started  from  Amboise  to  go  on  foot  to  Xotre- 
Dame-de-Fontaines,  to  commend  to  her  what  I  love  better 
than  myself,  my  son,  glorious  and  triumphant  Citsar,  su])ju- 
gator  of  the  Helvetians. 

"  Item.  That  same  day,  September  13, 1515,  between  seven 
and  eight  in  the  evening,  was  seen  in  various  parts  of  I'landers 
a  flame  of  fire  as  long  as  a  lance,  which  seemed  as  though  it 
would  fall  u]ion  the  houses,  but  was  so  bright  that  a  hundred 
torches  could  not  have  cast  so  great  a  light." 

^Marguerite,  learned  and  enlightened  as  she  was,  must 
iiave  believed  the  presage,  for  she  writes  the  same  words  as 


MESDAMES,  THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  FRANCE.  247 

her  mother.  Married  at  seventeen  years  of  age  to  the  Due 
d'Alengon,  an  insignificant  prince,  she  gave  all  her  devotion 
and  all  her  soul  to  her  brother ;  therefore  when,  in  the  tenth 
year  of  his  reign,  tlie  disaster  of  Pavia  took  place  (February 
25,  1525),  and  Marguerite  learned  the  destruction  of  the 
French  army  and  the  captivity  of  their  king,  we  can  con- 
ceive the  blow  it  was  to  her  and  to  her  mother.  While 
Madame  Louise,  appointed  regent  of  the  kingdom,  showed 
strength  and  courage  in  that  position,  we  can  follow  the 
thoughts  of  Marguerite  in  the  series  of  letters  she  wrote  to 
her  brother,  which  M.  Genin  has  published.  Her  first  word 
is  written  to  console  the  captive  and  reassure  him :  "Madame 
(Louise  de  Savoie)  has  felt  such  doubling  of  strength  that 
night  and  day  there  is  not  a  moment  lost  for  your  affairs  ; 
therefore  you  need  have  no  anxiety  or  pain  about  your 
kingdom  or  your  children."  She  congratulates  herself  on 
knowing  that  he  has  fallen  into  the  hands  of  so  kind  and 
generous  a  victor  as  the  A^iceroy  of  Xaples,  Charles  de  Lan- 
noy ;  she  entreats  him,  for  the  sake  of  his  mother,  to  take 
care  of  his  health  :  "  I  have  heard  that  you  mean  to  do  this 
Lent  without  eating  fiesh  or  eggs,  and  sometimes  fast  alto- 
gether for  the  honour  of  God.  Monseigneur,  as  much  as 
a  very  humble  sister  can  implore  you,  I  entreat  you  not  to 
do  this,  but  consider  how  fish  goes  against  you ;  also  believe 
that  if  you  do  it  Madame  has  sworn  to  do  so  too ;  and  I  shall 
have  the  sorrow  to  see  you  both  give  way." 

Marguerite,  about  this  time,  sees  her  husband,  who  es- 
caped from  Pavia,  die  at  Lyon.  She  mourns  him  ;  but  after 
the  first  two  days  she  surmounts  her  grief  and  conceals  it 
from  her  mother  the  regent,  because,  not  being  able  to 
render  services  herself,  she  should  think  she  was  most  unfor- 
tunate, she  says,  to  hinder  and  shake  the  spirit  of  her  who 
can  do  such  great  things.     When  Marguerite  is  selected  to 


248  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

go  to  her  brother  in  Spain  (September,  1525)  and  work  for 
his  deliverance,  her  joy  is  great.  At  last  she  can  be  useful 
to  this  brother,  whom  she  considers  "  as  him  whom  God  has 
left  her  in  this  world ;  father,  brother,  and  husband."  She 
mingles  and  varies  in  many  ways  those  names  of  master, 
brother,  king,  which  she  accumulates  upon  him,  without 
their  sufficing  to  express  her  affection,  so  full  and  sincere  is 
it :  "  Whatever  it  may  be,  eve/i  to  casting  to  the  winds  the 
ashes  of  my  hones  to  do  you  service,  nothing  can  seem  to  me 
strange,  or  difficult,  or  painful,  but  always  consolation, 
repose,  honour."  Such  expressions,  exaggerated  in  others, 
are  true  on  Marguerite's  lips. 

She  succeeded  but  little  in  her  mission  to  Spain  ;  there, 
where  she  sought  to  move  generous  hearts  and  make  their 
fibre  of  honour  vibrate,  she  found  crafty  dissimulation  and 
policy.  She  was  allowed  to  see  her  brother  for  a  short  time 
only ;  he  himself  exacted  that  she  should  shorten  her  stay, 
thinking  her  more  useful  to  his  interests  in  France.  She 
tears  herself  from  him  in  grief,  above  ail  at  leaving  him  ill, 
and  as  low  as  possible  in  health.  Oh  !  how  she  longed  to 
return,  to  stay  beside  him,  and  to  take  the  "  place  of  lacquey 
beside  his  cot."  It  is  her  opinion  that  he  should  buy  his 
Hberty  at  any  price  ;  let  him  return,  no  matter  on  what  con- 
ditions ;  no  terms  can  be  bad  provided  she  sees  him  back  in 
France,  and  none  can  be  good  if  he  is  still  in  Spain.  As 
soon  as  she  sets  foot  in  France  she  is  received,  she  tells  liim, 
as  a  forerunner,  "  as  the  Baptist  of  Jesus  Christ."  Arriving 
at  B^ziers,  she  is  surrounded  by  crowds.  "  I  assure  you, 
Monseigneur,"  she  writes,  "  that  when  I  tried  to  speak  of 
you  to  two  or  three,  the  moment  I  named  the  king  every- 
body pressed  round  to  listen  to  me ;  in  short,  I  am  con- 
strained to  talk  of  you,  and  I  never  close  my  speech  v*-ithout 
an   accompaniment   of   tears   from  persons   of   all    classes." 


MESDAMES,  THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  FRANCE.     249 

Such  was  at  that  time  the  true  grief  of  France  for  the  loss 
of  her  king. 

As  Marguerite  advances  farther  into  the  country  she 
observes  more  and  more  the  absence  of  the  master;  the 
kingdom  is  "  hke  a  body  without  a  head,  Hving  to  recover 
you,  dying  in  the  sense  that  you  are  absent."  As  for  herself, 
seemg  this,  she  thinks  that  her  toils  in  Spain  were  more 
Ci  durable  than  this  stillness  in  France,  "  where  fancies 
torment  me  more  than  efforts." 

In  general,  all  Marguerite's  letters  do  the  greatest  honour 
to  her  soul,  to  her  generous,  solid  qualities,  filled  with  affec- 
tion and  heartiness.  Eomance  and  drama  have  many  a 
time  expended  themselves,  as  was  indeed  their  right,  on  this 
captivity  in  Madrid  and  on  those  interviews  of  Frangois  I, 
and  his  sister,  which  lend  themselves  to  the  imagination  ; 
but  the  reading  of  these  simple,  devoted  letters,  laying  bare 
their  feelings,  tells  more  than  all.  Here  is  a  charming  pas- 
sage in  which  she  smiles  to  him  and  tries,  on  her  return,  to 
brighten  the  captive  with  news  of  his  children.  Francois  I. 
at  this  date  had  five,  all  of  whom,  with  one  exception,  were 
recovering  from  the  measles. 

"  And  now,"  says  Marguerite,  "  they  are  all  entirely  cured 
and  very  healthy;  M.  le  dauphin  does  marv^els  in  study- 
ing, mingflin"  with  his  studies  a  hundred  other  exercises : 
and  there  is  no  question  now  of  temper,  but  of  all  the 
virtues.  M.  d'Orldans  is  nailed  to  his  book  and  says  he 
wants  to  be  wise ;  but  M.  d'AngoulSme  knows  more  than 
the  others,  and  does  things  that  may  be  thought  prophetic 
as  well  as  childish ;  which,  Monseigneur,  you  would  be 
amazed  to  hear  of.  Little  Margot  is  like  me,  and  will  not 
be  ill ;  they  tell  me  here  she  has  very  good  grace,  and  is 
growing  much  handsomer  than  Mademoiselle  d'Angoulem© 
ever  was." 


250  THE   BOOK  OF  THE   LADIES. 

Mademoiselle  d'Angouleme  is  herself;  and  the  little  Margot 
who  promises  to  be  prettier  than  her  aunt  and  godmother, 
is  the  second  of  the  Marguerites,  who  is  presently  to  be 
Duchesse  de  Savoie. 

As  a  word  has  now  been  said  about  the  beauty  of  ]\Iar- 
guerite  de  Navan-e,  what  are  we  to  think  about  it?  Her 
actual  portrait  lessens  the  exaggerated  idea  we  might  form 
of  it  from  the  eulogies  of  that  day.  j\Iarguerite  resembles 
her  brother.  She  has  his  slightly  aquiline  and  very  long 
nose,  the  long,  soft,  and  shrewd  eye,  the  lips  equally  long, 
refined  and  smiling.  The  expression  of  her  countenance  is 
that  of  shrewdness  on  a  basis  of  kindness.  Her  dress  is 
sinjple  ;  her  cotte  or  gown  is  made  rather  high  and  flat,  with- 
out any  frippery,  and  is  trimmed  with  fur ;  her  rnoh-cap, 
low  upon  her  head,  encircles  the  forehead  and  upper  part  of 
the  face,  scarcely  allowing  any  hair  to  be  seen.  She  holds 
a  little  dog  in  her  arms.  The  last  of  the  Marguerites,  tliat 
other  Queen  of  Navarre,  first  wife  of  Henri  IV.,  was  the 
queen  of  modes  and  fashions  in  her  youth  ;  she  gave  the 
tone.  Our  Marguerite  did  nothing  of  all  that ;  she  left  tliat 
role  to  the  Duchesse  d'fitampes  and  her  like.  Marot  him- 
self, when  praising  her,  insists  particularly  on  her  character- 
istic of  gentleness,  "  which  effaces  the  beauty  of  the  most 
beautiful,"  on  her  chaste  glance  and  that  franl:  spccrJi,  iritk- 
out  disguise.,  vAtlwiU  artifice.  She  was  sincere,  "joyous, 
laughing  readily,"  fond  of  all  honest  gayety,  and  when  hhe 
wanted  to  say  a  lively  word,  too  risky  in  French,  slie  said  it 
in  Italian  or  in  Spanish.  In  other  respects,  full  of  religion, 
morality,  and  sound  training ;  justifying  the  magnificent 
eulogy  bestowed  upon  her  by  Erasmus.  That  wise  monarch 
of  literature,  that  true  emperor  of  the  Latinity  of  his  period, 
consoling  ]Mar<::uerite  at  the  moment  when  she  was  under 
the  blow  of  the  disaster  of  Pavia,  writes  to  lier :  "  I  have 


MESDAMES,  THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  FRANCE.  251 

long  admired  and  loved  in  you  many  eminent  gifts  of  God : 
prudence  wortliy  of  a  philosopher,  chastity,  moderation, 
piety,  invincible  strength  of  soul,  and  a  wonderful  contempt 
for  all  perishable  things.  Who  would  not  consider  with 
admiration,  in  the  sister  of  a  great  king,  qualities  which  we 
can  scarcely  find  in  priests  and  monks  ? "  In  this  last  stroke 
upon  the  monks  we  catch  the  slightly  satirical  tone  of  the 
Voltaire  of  those  times.  Eemark  that  in  this  letter  addressed 
to  Marguerite  in  1525,  and  in  another  letter  which  closely 
followed  the  first,  Erasmus  thanks  and  congratulates  her  on 
the  services  she  never  ceases  to  render  to  the  common  cause 
of  literature  and  tolerance. 

These  services  rendered  by  Marguerite  were  real ;  but  that 
which  is  a  subject  of  eulogy  on  the  part  of  some  is  a  source 
of  blame  on  the  part  of  others.  Her  brother  having  mar- 
ried her  for  the  second  time,  in  1527,  to  Henri  d'Albret, 
King  of  Navarre,  she  held  her  little  Court  at  Pau  w^hich 
thenceforth  became  the  refuge  and  haven  of  all  persecuted 
persons  and  innovators.  "  She  favoured  Calvinism,  which 
she  abandoned  in  the  end,"  says  President  H^nault,  "and 
was  the  cause  of  the  rapid  progress  of  that  dawning  sect." 
It  is  very  true  that  Marguerite,  open  to  all  the  literary  and 
generous  sentiments  of  her  time,  behaved  as,  later,  a  person 
on  the  verge  of  '89  might  have  favoured  liberty  with  all 
her  strength  without  wishing  or  even  perceiving  the  ap- 
proaching revolution.  She  did  at  this  period  as  did  the 
whole  Court  of  France,  which,  merely  following  fashion, 
the  progress  of  Letters,  the  pleasure  of  understanding  Holy 
Scripture  and  of  chanting  the  Psalms  in  French,  came  near 
to  being  Lutheran  or  Calvinistic  without  knowinfj  it.  Their 
first  awakening  was  on  a  morning  (October  19,  1534)  when 
they  read,  affixed  to  every  wall  in  Paris,  those  bloody 
placards  against  the   Catholic   faith.     The  imprudent  ones 


252  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

of  the  party  had  fired  the  train  before  the  appointed  time. 
Marguerite,  good  and  loyal,  knowing  nothing  of  parties  and 
judging  only  by  honourable  persons  and  the  men  of  letters 
of  her  acquaintance,  leaned  to  the  belief  that  those  infamous 
placards  were  the  act,  not  of  Protestants,  but  of  those  who 
sought  a  pretext  to  compromise  and  persecute  them.  Char- 
itable and  humane,  she  never  ceased  to  act  upon  her  brother 
in  the  direction  of  clemency. 

It  was  thus  that  on  two  or  three  occasions  she  tried  to 
save  the  unfortunate  Berquin,  who  persisted  in  dogmatizing, 
and  was,  in  spite  of  all  the  princess's  efforts  with  the  king, 
her  brother,  burned  on  the  Gr^ve,  April  24,  1529.  To  read 
the  passages  of  the  letters  in  which  she  commends  Eerquin, 
one  would  think  she  espoused  his  opinions  and  his  beliefs  ; 
but  we  must  not  ask  too  much  rigour  and  precision  of  Mar- 
guerite in  her  ideas  and  their  expression.  There  are  mo- 
ments, no  doubt,  in  reading  her  verse  or  her  prose,  when 
we  might  think  that  she  had  fully  accepted  the  Eefonna- 
tion ;  she  reproduces  its  language,  even  its  jargon.  Then, 
side  by  side,  we  see  her  become  once  more,  or  rather  continue 
to  be,  a  believer  after  the  manner  of  the  best  Catholics  of  her 
age,  given  to  all  their  practices,  and  not  fearing  to  couple 
with  them  her  inconsistencies.  Montaigne,  who  had  great 
esteem  for  her,  could  not  prevent  himself  from  noting,  for 
example,  her  singular  reflection  about  a  young  and  very  great 
prince,  whose  history  slie  relates  in  her  JS^ouvellcs,  and  wlio 
has  all  the  look  of  being  Frangois  I. ;  she  shows  him  on 
his  way  to  a  rendezvous  that  is  not  edifying,  and,  to  shorten 
his  way,  lie  obtains  permission  of  the  porter  of  a  monastery 
to  cross  its  enclosure.  On  his  return,  being  no  longer  so 
hurried,  the  prince  stops  to  pray  in  the  church  of  the 
cloister  ;  "  for,"  she  says,  "  although  he  led  the  life  of  which 
I    tell   you,  he  was  a  yii'ince  who  loved  and    feared    God." 


MESDAMES,  THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  FRANCE.     253 

Montaigne  takes  up  that  remark,  and  asks  what  good  she 
found  at  such  a  moment  in  that  idea  of  divine  protection 
and  favour.  "This  is  not  the  only  proof  to  be  adduced," 
he  adds,  "  that  women  are  not  fitted  to  treat  of  matters  of 
theology." 

And,  in  truth.  Marguerite  was  no  theologian  ;  she  was  a 
person  of  real  piety,  heart,  knowledge,  and  humanity,  who 
mingled  with  her  serious  life  a  happy,  enjoying  tempera- 
ment, making  a  most  sincere  harmony  of  it  all ;  which  sur- 
prises us  a  little  in  the  present  day.  Brantome  relates  (in 
his  "  Lives  of  Illustrious  Captains  ")  an  anecdote  of  Marguerite 
which  paints  her  very  well  in  this  connection  and  measure. 
A  hrotlier  of  BrantSme,  the  Capitaine  de  Bourdeille,  had 
known  at  Ferrara  in  the  household  of  the  duchess  of  that 
country  (daughter  of  Louis  XII.)  a  French  lady.  Mile,  de  La 
Eoche,  by  whom  he  had  made  himself  beloved.  He  brought 
her  back  with  him  to  France,  and  she  went  to  the  Court  of 
the  Queen  of  Navarre,  where  she  died,  he  no  longer  caring 
for  her.  One  day,  three  months  after  this  death,  Capitaine 
de  Bourdeille  passed  through  Pau,  and  having  gone  to  pay 
his  respects  to  the  Queen  of  Navarre  as  she  returned  from 
vespers,  was  well  received  by  her ;  and  talking  from  topic  tc 
topic  as  they  walked,  the  princess  led  him  quietly  through  the 
church  to  the  spot  where  the  tomb  of  the  lady  he  had  lovetl 
and  deserted  was  placed.  "  Cousin,"  she  said,  "  do  you  not 
feel  something  moving  beneath  your  feet?"  "  No,  madame," 
he  replied.  "But  reflect  a  moment,  cousin,"  she  said. 
"  Madame,  I  do  reflect,"  he  answered,  "  but  I  feel  no  move- 
ment, for  I  am  walking  on  solid  stone."  "  Then  I  inform 
you,"  said  the  queen,  without  keeping  him  further  in  sus- 
pense, "  that  you  stand  upon  the  grave  and  body  of  that  poor 
Mile,  de  La  Eoche,  who  is  buried  beneath  you,  whom  you 
loved  so  much ;  and,  since  souls  have  feelings  after  death,  it 


254  THE   BOOK   OF  THE   LADIES. 

cannot  be  doubted  that  so  honest  a  being,  dying  of  coldness, 
felt  your  step  above  her ;  and  though  you  felt  nothing,  be- 
cause of  the  thickness  of  tliat  stone,  she  was  moved,  and 
conscious  of  your  presence.  Now,  inasmuch  as  it  is  a  pious 
deed  to  remember  the  dead,  I  request  you  to  give  her  a 
Pater  nostcr,  an  Ave  JIaria,  and  a  De  F7'ofundis,  and  t(J 
sprinkle  her  with  holy  water;  you  will  thus  obtain  the 
name  of  a  faithful  lover  and  a  good  Christian."  She  left 
him  and  went  away,  that  he  might  fulfil  with  a  collected 
mind  the  pious  ceremonies  that  were  due  to  the  dead.  I 
do  not  know  why  Brantome  adds  the  remark  that,  in  his 
opinion,  the  princess  said  and  did  all  this  more  from  g'jcd 
grace  and  by  way  of  conversation  than  from  conviction ;  it 
seems  to  me,  on  the  contrary,  that  there  was  belief  as  well 
as  grace,  the  conviction  of  a  woman  of  delicacy  and  a  pious 
soul,  and  that  all  is  there  harmonized. 

In  Marguerite's  own  time  there  were  not  lacking  tliose 
who  blamed  her  for  the  protection  she  gave  to  the  lettered 
friends  of  the  Eeformation  ;  she  found  denunciators  in  the 
Sorbonne ;  she  found  them  equally  at  Court.  The  Conne- 
table  de  ^Montmorency,  speaking  to  the  king  of  the  necessity 
of  purging  the  kingdom  of  heretics,  added  that  he  must  liegin 
with  the  Court  and  his  nearest  relations,  naming  the  Queen 
of  Xavarre.  "  Do  not  speak  of  her,"  said  the  king,  "  .'-die 
loves  me  too  well ;  she  will  believe  only  what  I  believe  ;  slie 
will  never  be  of  any  religion  prejudicial  to  my  State."  Idiat 
saying  sums  up  tlie  truth :  ]\Iarguerite  could  be  of  no  other 
religion  than  that  of  her  brother ;  and  Bayle  has  very  well 
remarked,  in  a  fine  page  of  his  criticism,  that  the  more  we 
show  that  ^Marguerite  was  not  united  in  doctrine  with  the 
Protestants,  the  more  we  are  forced  to  recognize  her  ^gener- 
osity, her  loftiness  of  soul,  and  her  pure  humanity.  By  her 
womanly  instinct  she  comprehended  tolerance,  like  L'Hopital, 


MESDAMES,  THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  FRANCE.     255 

like  Henri  lY.,  like  Bayle  himself.  From  the  point  of  view 
of  the  State  there  may  have  been  some  danger  in  the  direc- 
tion of  this  tolerance,  too  confiding  and  too  complete  ;  it  so 
appeared,  in  Marguerite's  time,  at  this  critical  moment  when 
the  religion  of  the  State,  and  with  it  the  constitution  of  those 
days,  was  in  danger  of  overthrow.  Nevertheless,  it  is  good 
that  there  should  be  such  souls,  —  in  love,  before  all  else,  with 
humanity  ;  who  insinuate,  in  the  long  run,  gentleness  into 
public  morals  and  into  laws  and  justice  hitherto  cruel ;  it  is 
good  because  later,  in  epochs  when  severity  begins  again, 
repression,  while  it  may  be  commanded  by  reasons  of  policy, 
is  still  forced  to  reckon  with  that  sj^irit  of  humanity  intro- 
duced into  customs,  and  with  acquired  tolerance.  Thus  the 
rigour  of  present  ages,  softened  and  tempered  as  it  now  is  by 
general  manners  and  morals,  would  have  been  a  blessing  in 
past  centuries ;  these  are  points  gained  in  civil  life  which  are 
never  lost  afterv/ards. 

The  Contes  et  Nonvelles  of  the  Queen  of  Xavarre  have 
nothing,  as  we  can  readily  believe,  tliat  is  much  out  of  keep- 
ing or  contradictory  with  her  life  and  the  habitual  character 
of  her  thoughts.  M.  Genin  has  already  made  that  judicious 
remark,  and  an  attentive  reading  will  only  justify  it.  Those 
Tales  are  neither  the  gayeties  nor  the  sins  of  youth;  she 
wrote  them  at  a  ripe  age,  for  the  most  part  in  her  litter  while 
travelling,  and  by  way  of  amusement  —  but  the  amusement 
had  its  serious  side.  Death  prevented  her  from  concluding 
them ;  instead  of  the  seven  Days  which  we  actually  have, 
she  intended  to  make  ten,  like  Boccaccio;  she  wished  to 
give,  not  an  Heptameron,  but  a  French  Decameron.  In  her 
prologue  she  supposes  that  several  persons  of  condition, 
French  and  Spanish,  having  met,  in  the  month  of  September, 
at  the  baths  of  Cauterets,  in  the  Pyrenees,  separate  after  a 
few  weeks ;  the  Spaniards  returning  as  best  they  can  across 


256  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

the  mountains,  the  French  delayed  on  their  way  by  floods 
caused  by  the  heavy  rains.  A  certain  number  of  these  trav- 
ellers, men  and  women,  after  divers  adventures  more  extraor- 
dinary than  agreeable,  find  themselves  again  in  company  at 
the  Abbey  of  iN'otre-Dame-de-Serrance,  and  there,  as  the 
river  Gave  is  not  fordable,  they  decide  to  build  a  bridge. 
"The  abbd,"  says  the  narrator,  "who  was  very  glad  they 
should  make  this  outlay,  because  the  number  of  pilgrims 
would  thus  be  increased,  furnished  the  workmen,  but  not  a 
penny  to  the  costs,  such  was  his  avarice.  The  workmen 
declaring  that  they  could  not  build  the  bridge  under  ten  or  a 
dozen  days,  the  company,  half  men,  half  women,  began  to 
get  very  weary."  It  became  necessary  to  find  some  "  pleasant 
and  virtuous  "  occupation  for  those  ten  days,  and  for  this 
they  consulted  a  certain  Dame  Oisille,  the  oldest  of  the 
company. 

Dame  Oisille  responded  in  a  manner  most  edifying  :  "  ]\Iy 
children,  you  ask  me  a  thing  that  I  find  very  difficult, 
namely :  to  teach  you  a  pastime  which  shall  deliver  you 
from  ennui.  Having  searched  for  this  remedy  all  my  life,  I 
have  found  but  one,  and  that  is  the  reading  of  Holy  Epistles, 
in  which  will  be  found  the  true  and  perfect  joy  of  the  soul, 
from  which  proceeds  the  repose  and  health  of  the  body."  But 
the  joyous  company  cannot  keep  wholly  to  so  austere  a  sys- 
tem, and  it  is  agreed  that  the  time  shall  be  divided  between 
the  sacred  and  the  profane.  Early  in  the  morning  the  com- 
pany assembled  in  the  chamber  of  Dame  Oisille  to  share  in 
her  moral  readings,  and  from  there  they  went  to  mass. 
They  dined  at  ten  o'clock,  after  which,  having  retired  each  to 
his  or  her  chamber  for  private  affairs,  they  met  again  about 
mid-day  on  the  meadow :  "  And,  if  it  please  you,  every  day, 
from  mid-day  till  four  o'clock,  we  went  through  the  beautiful 
meadow,  on  the  banks  of  the  river  du  Gave,  where  the  trees 


MESDAMES,  THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  FRAXCE.  257 

are  so  leafy  that  the  sun  cannot  pierce  the  shadows,  or  heat 
the  coolness ;  and  there,  seated  at  our  ease,  each  told  some 
story  he  had  known,  or  else  heard  from  a  trustworthy  per- 
son." For  it  was  well  understood  that  nothing  should  be 
told  that  was  not  true;  narrators  must  be  content  to  dis- 
guise, if  necessary,  the  names  of  both  persons  and  places. 
The  company  numbered  ten ;  as  many  men  as  women,  and 
each  told  a  story  daily ;  so  it  followed  that  in  ten  days  the 
hundred  tales  would  be  completed.  Every  afternoon,  at  four 
o'clock,  a  bell  was  rung,  giving  notice  that  it  was  time  to  go 
to  vespers ;  the  company  went,  —  not,  however,  without  some- 
times obliging  the  monks  to  wait  for  them  ;  to  which  delay 
the  latter  lent  themselves  with  very  good  grace.  Thus 
rolled  the  time  away,  no  one  believing  that  he  or  she  had 
passed  the  limits  of  sanctioned  gayety  or  committed  any  sin. 
The  Tales  of  the  Queen  of  Navarre  have  nothing  abso- 
lutely out  of  keeping  with  this  framework  and  design. 
Each  story  has  a  moral,  a  precept,  either  well  or  ill  de- 
duced ;  each  is  related  to  support  some  maxim,  some  theory, 
on  the  pre-eminence  of  one  or  other  of  the  sexes,  on  the 
nature  and  essence  of  love,  with  examples  or  proofs  (often 
very  contestable)  of  what  is  advanced.  Prudery  apart,  there 
is  not  much  in  these  tales  that  is  really  charming.  The 
subjects  are  tliose  of  the  time.  At  moments  we  exclaim 
with  Dame  Oisille :  "  Good  God !  shall  we  never  get  out  of 
these  stories  of  monks  ? "  We  are  made  aware  that  even  the 
honourable  men  and  well-bred  women  of  those  days  were 
contemporaries  of  Rabelais.  However,  it  all  turns  to  a  good 
end.  There  is  wit  and  subtlety  in  the  discussions  which 
serve  as  epilogue  or  prologue  to  the  different  tales.  Most 
of  the  histories,  being  true,  are  without  art,  composition,  or 
denouement.  The  Queen  of  Navarre  has  been  very  little 
imitated  in  the  tales  and  verses  made  since   her   day ;  in 

17 


258  THE   BOOK  OF   THE   LADIES 

fact,  she  lends  herself  poorly  to  imitation.  Only  once  does 
La  Fontaine  put  her  under  contribution,  but  then  in  what 
is,  as  I  think,  the  most  piquant  of  her  writings,  namely : 
the  tale  of  La  Servante  justifih.  In  IMarguerite's  story  a 
merchant,  a  carpet-dealer,  emancipates  himself  with  another 
than  his  wife,  and  is  discovered  by  a  female  neighbour. 
Fearing  that  the  latter  will  gabble,  the  merchant, "  who  knew 
how  to  give  any  colour  to  carpets,"  arranges  matters  in  such 
a  way  that  his  wife  is  induced  of  her  own  accord  to  walk  to 
the  same  place ;  so  that  when  the  gossiping  neighbour 
comes  to  tell  the  wife  what  slie  has  seen,  the  latter  replies, 
"  Hey  !  my  crony,  but  that  was  I."  This  "  that  was  I  "  re- 
peated many  times  and  in  varying  tones,  becomes  comical, 
like  the  sayings  of  the  farce  called  Patelin,  or  a  scene  of 
Eegnard ;  there  are,  however,  not  many  such  sayings  in 
Marguerite's  Tales. 

A  question  which  arises  on  the  reading  of  these  Nouvclks, 
the  image  and  faithful  reproduction  of  the  good  societ}'  of 
that  day,  is  on  the  singularity  that  the  tone  of  conversation 
should  have  varied  so  much  among  honourable  persons  at 
different  epochs  before  it  settled  down  upon  the  basis  of 
true  delicacy  and  decency.  Elegant  conversation  dates 
much  farther  back  than  we  suppose ;  polished  society  began 
much  earlier  than  we  think.  The  character  of  conversation 
as  we  now  understand  it  in  society,  and  that  which  specially 
distinguishes  it  amontr  moderns,  is  that  women  are  admitted 
to  it ;  and  this  it  was  that  led,  during  the  finest  period  of 
the  middle  ages,  to  charming  conversations  in  certain 
Courts  of  the  South,  and  also  in  Xormandy,  in  France,  and 
in  England.  In  those  ca=tles  of  the  South  wliere  trouba- 
dours disported,  and  wlienee  the  echo  of  their  sweet 
songs  comes  to  us,  where  exquisite  and  ravishing  stories 
were  composed   (like   tliat  of  Avxassiii  et  Xkoh'tte),  there 


MESDAMES,  THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  FRANCE.  259 

must  have  been  all  the  dehcacy,  all  the  graces  one  could 
wish  for  in  conversation.  But  taking  matters  as  they  ap- 
pear to  us  at  the  end  of  the  loth  century,  we  notice  a 
mixture,  a  very  perceptible  struggle  between  purity  and 
license,  between  coarseness  and  refinement.  The  pretty  little 
romance  Jehan  de  Sainti^e,  in  which  the  chivalric  ideal  is 
pictured  from  the  start  in  the  daintiest  manner,  and  which 
assumes  to  give  us  a  little  code  in  action  of  politeness, 
courtesy  and  gallantry,  —  in  a  word,  the  complete  education 
of  a  young  equerry  of  the  day,  —  this  pretty  romance  is  also 
full  of  pedantic  precepts,  essays  on  minute  ceremonial,  and 
towards  the  end  it  suddenly  turns  into  gross  sensuality  and 
the  triumph  of  the  monk,  after  Eabelais. 

The  vein  of  license  and  w^anton  language  never  ceased 
its  flow  from  the  time  it  originated,  disguising  itself  in  bril- 
liant moments  and  noble  companies  only  to  again  unmask 
at  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century,  when  it  seems 
to  borrow  still  further  audacity  from  the  Latin  Renaissance. 
This  was  the  time  when  virtuous  women  told  and  openly 
discoursed  of  tales  cu  la  Eoquelaure.  Such  is  the  tone  of 
the  society  which  the  Nouvelles  of  Marguerite  of  Navarre 
represent  to  us,  all  the  more  naively  because  their  intention 
is  in  no  way  indecent.  Nearly  a  century  was  needed  to 
reform  this  vice  of  taste ;  it  was  necessary  that  Mme.  de 
Eambouillet  and  her  daughter  should  come  to  reprimand 
and  school  the  Court,  that  professors  of  good  taste  and  polite 
language,  like  Mile,  de  Scud(^ry  and  the  Chevalier  de  M(^rd, 
should  apply  themselves  for  years  to  preach  decorum ;  and 
even  then  we  shall  find  many  backslidings  and  vestiges  of 
coarseness  in  the  midst  of  even  their  refinement  and 
formalism. 

The  noble  moment  is  that  when,  by  some  sudden  change 
of  season,  intellects  and  minds  are  spread,  all  of  a  sudden, 


260  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

in  a  richer  and  more  equal  manner  over  a  whole  generation 
of  vigorous  souls  who  then  return  eagerly  to  that  which  is 
natural,  and  give  themselves  up  to  it  without  restraint.  That 
noble  moment  came  in  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
and  nothing  can  be  imagined  comparable  to  the  conversa- 
tions of  the  youth  of  the  Condes,  the  La  Eochefoucaulds, 
the  Eetzes,  the  Saint-Evremonds,  the  S^vign^s,  the  Turennes. 
What  perfect  hours  were  those  when  Mme.  de  La  Fayette 
talked  with  Madame  Henriette,  lying  after  dinner  on  the 
cushions !  Thus  we  come,  across  the  greatest  of  centuries, 
to  Mme.  de  Caylus,  the  smiling  niece  of  Mme.  de  Maiiite- 
non,  to  that  airy  perfection  where  the  mind  without  reflect- 
ing about  it,  denies  itself  nothing  and  observes  all. 

In  the  second  half  of  the  seventeenth  century  no  one  but 
Mme.  Cornuel  was  allowed  to  use  coarse  language  and  be 
forgiven  because  of  the  spicy  wit  with  which  she  seasoned  it. 
At  all  times  virtuous  women  must  have  heard  and  listened  to 
more  than  they  repeated;  but  the  decisive  moment  (which 
needs  to  be  noted)  is  that  when  they  ceased  to  say  unseemly 
things  and  fix  them  in  writing  without  perceiving  that  they 
themselves  were  lacking  in  a  virtue.  This  moment  is  what 
Queen  Marguerite,  as  a  romance-writer  and  maker  of  Nou- 
velles,  had  not  the  art  to  divine. 

As  a  poet  she  has  nothing  more  than  facility.  She  imi- 
tates and  reproduces  the  various  forms  of  poesy  in  use  at 
that  date.  It  is  told  how  she  often  employed  two  secretaries, 
one  to  write  down  the  French  verses  she  composed  im- 
promptu, the  other  to  transcribe  her  letters. 

Marguerite  died  at  the  Castle  of  Odos  in  Bigorre,  December 
21,  1549,  in  her  fifty-eighth  year ;  in  yielding  her  last  breath 
she  cried  out  three  times  :  "  Jesus  ! "  She  was  the  mother 
of  Jeanne  d'Albret. 

Such  as  I  have  shown  her  as  a  whole,  endeavouring  not  to 


MESDAMES,  THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  FRANCE.  261 

force  her  features  and  to  avoid  all  exaggeration,  she  deserves 
that  name  of  gentil  esprit  [charming  spirit]  which  has  been 
so  universally  awarded  to  her ;  she  was  the  worthy  sister  of 
Francois  I.,  the  worthy  patron  of  the  Kenaissance,  the  worthy 
grandmother  of  Henri  IV.,  as  much  for  her  mercy  as  for  her 
joyousness,  and  one  likes  to  address  her,  in  the  halo  that 
surrounds  her,  these  verses  which  her  memory  calls  forth 
and  which  blend  themselves  so  well  with  our  thought  of 
her :  — 

"  Spirits,  charming  and  lightsome,  who  have  been,  from  all 
time,  the  grace  and  the  honour  of  this  land  of  France  —  ye 
who  were  born  and  played  in  those  iron  ages  issuing  from  bar- 
baric horrors  ;  who,  passing  through  cloisters,  were  welcomed 
there ;  the  joyous  soul  of  burgher  vigils  and  the  gracious 
fetes  of  castles ;  ye  who  have  blossomed  often  beside  the 
throne,  dispersing  the  weariness  of  pomps,  giving  to  victory 
politeness,  and  recovering  your  smiles  on  the  morrow  of 
reverses ;  ye  who  have  taken  many  forms,  tricksorae,  mock- 
ing, elegant,  or  tender,  facile  ever ;  ye  who  have  never  failed 
to  be  born  again  at  the  moment  you  were  said  to  have  van- 
ished —  the  ages  for  us  have  grown  stern,  reason  is  more  and 
more  accredited,  leisure  has  fled ;  even  our  pleasures  eager- 
ness has  turned  into  business,  peace  is  without  repose,  so 
busy  is  she  with  the  useful ;  to  days  serene  come  after- 
thoughts and  cares  to  many  a  soul ;  — ^  't  is  now  the  hour,  or 
nevermore,  for  awakening ;  the  hour  to  once  more  grasp  the 
world  and  again  delight  it,  as,  throughout  all  time,  ye  have 
known  the  way,  eternally  fresh  and  novel.  Abandon  not  for- 
ever this  land  of  Franco,  0  spirits  glad  and  lightsome  !  " 

Saint-Beuve,  Causeries  du  Lundi  (1852). 


DISCOUESE   YII. 

OF  VAKIOUS  ILLUSTRIOUS  LADIES.i 

1.   Isabelle  d^Autriche,  wife  of  Charles  IX.,  King  of  France 
[daughter  of  the  Emperor  Maximilian  //.], 

We  have  had  our  Queen  of  France,  Isabelle  d'Autriche, 
who  was  married  to  King  Charles  IX.,  of  whom  it  is  every- 
where said  she  was  one  of  the  best,  the  gentlest,  the  wisest, 
and  most  virtuous  queens  who  reigned  since  kings  and  queens 
began  to  reign.  I  can  say  this,  and  every  man  who  has 
ever  seen  or  heard  of  her  will  say  it  with  me,  and  not  do 
wrong  to  others,  but  with  the  greatest  truth.  She  was  very 
beautiful,  having  the  complexion  of  her  face  as  fine  and  deli- 
cate as  any  lady  of  her  Court,  and  very  agreeable.  Her 
figure  was  beautiful  also,  though  it  was  of  only  medium 
height.  She  was  extremely  wise,  and  very  virtuous  and 
kind,  never  giving  pain  to  others,  no  matter  who,  nor  offend- 
ing any  by  a  single  word ;  and  as  to  that,  she  was  very  sober, 
speaking  little,  and  then  in  Spanish. 

She  was  most  devout,  but  in  no  way  bigoted,  not  showing 
her  devotion  by  external  acts  too  visible  and  too  extreme, 
such  as  I  have  seen  in  some  of  our  paternosterers ;  but, 
without  failing  in  her  ordinary  hours  of  praying  to  God,  she 
used  them  well,  so  that  she  did  not  need  to  borrow  extraordi- 
nary ones.  It  is  true,  as  I  have  heard  her  ladies  tell,  that 
when  she  was  in  bed  and  hidden,  her  curtains  well-drawn, 
she  would  kneel  on  her  knees,  in  her  shift,  and  pray  to  God 

^  See  Appendix. 


//'///    / 


VAEIOUS  ILLUSTRIOUS  LADIES.  263 

an  hour  and  a  half,  beating  her  breast  and  macerating  it  in 
her  great  devotion.  Which  they  did  not  see  by  her  consent, 
and  then  not  till  her  husband,  King  Charles,  was  dead ;  at 
which  time,  she  haviag  gone  to  bed  and  all  her  women  with- 
drawn, one  of  them  remained  to  sleep  in  her  chamber ;  and 
this  lady,  hearing  her  sigh  one  night,  bethought  her  of  look- 
ing through  the  curtains  and  saw  her  in  that  state,  and  pray- 
ing to  God  in  that  manner,  and  so  continuing  every  night ; 
until  at  last  the  waiting-woman,  who  was  familiar  with  her, 
began  to  remonstrate,  and  told  her  she  did  harm  to  her 
health.  On  which  the  queen  was  angry  at  being  dis- 
covered and  advised,  and  wished  to  conceal  what  she  did, 
commanding  her  to  say  no  word  of  it,  and,  for  that  night, 
desisted ;  but  the  night  after  she  made  up  for  it,  thinking 
that  her  women  did  not  perceive  what  she  did,  whereas  they 
saw  and  perceived  her  by  her  shadow  thrown  by  the  night- 
lamp  filled  with  wax  which  she  kept  lighted  on  her  bed  to 
read  and  pray  to  God ;  though  other  queens  and  princesses 
kept  theirs  upon  their  sideboards.  Such  ways  of  prayer  are 
not  like  those  of  hypocrites,  who,  wishing  to  make  an  ap- 
pearance before  the  world,  say  their  prayers  and  devotions 
publicly,  mumbling  them  aloud,  that  others  may  think  them 
devout  and  saintly. 

Thus  prayed  our  queen  for  the  soul  of  the  king,  her  hus- 
band, whom  she  regretted  deeply,  —  making  her  plaints  and 
regrets,  not  as  a  crazed  and  despairing  woman,  with  loud 
outcries,  wounding  her  face,  tearing  her  hair,  and  playing 
the  woman  who  is  praised  for  weeping;  but  mourning 
gently,  shedding  her  beautiful  and  precious  tears  so  tenderly, 
sighing  so  softly  and  lowly,  that  we  knew  she  restrained 
her  grief,  not  to  make  pretence  to  the  world  of  brave  ap- 
pearance (as  I  have  seen  some  ladies  do),  but  keeping  in 
her  soul  her  greatest  anguish.     Thus  a  torrent  of  water  if 


264  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

arrested   is  more  violent   than  one  that   runs   its  ordinary 
course. 

Here  I  am  reminded  to  tell  how,  during  the  illness  of 
the  king,  her  lord  and  husband,  he  dying  on  his  bed,  and 
she  going  to  visit  him ;  suddenly  she  sat  down  beside  him, 
not  by  his  pillow  as  the  custom  is,  but  a  little  apart  and 
facing  him  where  he  lay ;  not  speaking  to  him,  as  her  habit 
was,  she  held  her  eyes  upon  him  so  fixedly  as  she  sat  there 
you  would  have  said  she  brooded  over  him  in  her  heart  with 
the  love  she  bore  him  ;  and  then  she  was  seen  to  shed  tears 
so  quietly  and  tenderly  that  those  who  did  not  look  at  her 
would  not  have  known  it,  drying  her  eyes  while  making 
semblance  to  blow  her  nose,  causing  pity  to  one  (for  I  saw 
her)  in  seeing  her  so  tortured  without  yielcl,ing  to  her  grief 
or  her  love,  and  without  the  king  perceiving  it.  Then  she 
rose,  and  went  to  pray  God  for  his  cure ;  for  she  loved  and 
honoured  him  extremely,  although  she  knew  his  amorous 
complexion,  and  the  mistresses  that  he  had  both  for  honour 
and  for  pleasure.  But  she  never  for  that  gave  him  worse 
welcome,  nor  said  to  him  any  harsh  words  ;  bearing  patiently 
her  little  jealousy,  and  the  robbery  he  did  to  her.  She  was 
very  proper  and  dignified  with  him  ;  indeed  it  was  fire  and 
water  meeting  together,  for  as  much  as  the  king  was  quick, 
eager,  fiery,  she  was  cold  and  very  temperate. 

I  have  been  told  by  those  who  know  that  after  her  widow- 
hood, among  her  most  privileged  ladies  who  tried  to  give 
her  consolation,  there  was  one  (for  you  know  among  a  large 
number  tliere  is  always  a  clumsy  one)  who,  tliinking  to 
gratify  her  said :  "  Ah,  niadame,  if  God  instead  of  a  daughter 
had  given  you  a  sou,  you  would  now  be  queen-mother  of 
the  king,  and  your  grandeur  would  be  increased  and 
strengthened."  "  Alas  ! "  she  replied,  "  do  not  say  to  me  such 
grievous   things.     As   if   France   had   not   troubles  enough 


VARIOUS  ILLUSTRIOUS  LADIES.  265 

without  my  producing  her  one  which  would  complete  her 
ruin !  For,  had  I  a  son,  there  would  be  more  divisions, 
troubles,  seditions  to  gain  the  government  during  his 
minority  ;  from  that  would  come  more  wars  than  ever ;  and 
each  would  be  trying  to  get  his  profit  in  despoiling  the 
poor  child,  as  they  would  have  done  to  the  late  king,  my 
husband,  when  he  was  little,  if  the  queen-mother  and  her 
good  servitors  had  not  opposed  it.  If  I  had  a  son,  I  should 
be  miserable  to  think  I  had  conceived  him  and  so  caused 
a  thousand  maledictions  from  the  people,  whose  voice  is 
that  of  God.  That  is  why  I  praise  my  God,  and  take  with 
gratitude  the  fruit  he  gives  me,  whether  it  be  to  me  myself 
for  better  or  for  worse." 

Such  was  the  goodness  of  this  good  princess  towards  the 
country  and  people  to  which  she  had  been  brought  by 
marriage.  I  have  heard  related  how,  at  the  massacre  of 
Saint-Bartholomew,  she,  knowing  nothing  of  it  nor  even 
hearing  the  slightest  breath  of  it,  went  to  bed  as  usual,  and 
did  not  wake  till  morning,  at  which  time  they  told  her  of 
the  fine  drama  that  was  playing  [le  lean  mystere  qui  sejouoit]. 
"  Alas  ! "  she  said  quickly,  "  the  king,  my  husband,  does  he 
know  of  it  ? "  "  Yes,  madame,"  they  answered  her ;  "  it  was 
he  himself  who  ordered  it."  "  0  my  God ! "  she  cried, 
"  what  is  this  ?  What  counsellors  are  those  who  gave  him 
such  advice  ?  My  God  !  I  implore  thee,  I  beg  thee  to  pardon 
him  ;  for  if  thou  dost  not  pity  him,  I  fear  that  this  offence 
is  unforgivable."  Then  she  asked  for  her  prayer-book  and 
began  her  orisons,  imploring  God  with  tears  in  her  eyes. 

Consider,  I  beg  of  you,  the  goodness  and  wisdom  of  this 
queen  in  not  approving  such  a  festival  nor  the  deed  then 
performed,  although  she  had  reasons  to  desire  the  total 
extermination  of  M.  I'amiral  and  those  of  his  religion,  not 
only  because  they  were  contrary  to  hers,  which  she  adored 


266  THE  BOOK   OF   THE   LADIES. 

and  honoured  before  all  else  in  the  world,  but  because  she 
saw  how  they  troubled  the  States  of  the  king,  her  husband ; 
and  also  because  the  emperor,  her  father,  had  said  to  her 
when  she  parted  from  him  to  come  to  France :  "  My 
daughter,  you  will  be  queen  of  the  finest,  most  powerful 
and  greatest  kingdom  in  the  world,  and  for  that  I  hold 
you  to  be  very  happy ;  but  happier  would  you  be  if  you 
could  find  that  kingdom  as  flourishing  as  it  once  was  ;  but 
instead  you  will  find  it  torn,  divided,  weakened ;  for  though 
the  kmg,  your  husband,  holds  a  good  part  of  it,  the  princes 
and  seigneurs  of  the  Eeligion  hold  on  their  side  the  other 
part  of  it."     And  as  he  said  to  her,  so  she  found  it. 

This  queen  having  become  a  widow,  many  persons,  men 
and  women  of  the  Court,  the  most  cluar-sighted  that  I  know, 
were  of  opinion  that  the  king,  on  his  return  from  Poland, 
would  marry  her  although  she  was  his  sister-in-law ;  for  he 
could  have  done  so  by  dispensation  of  the  pope,  who  can  do 
much  in  such  matters,  and  above  all  for  great  personages 
because  of  the  public  good  that  comes  of  it.  There  were 
many  reasons  why  this  marriage  should  be  made ;  I  leave 
them  to  be  deduced  by  high  discoursers,  without  alleging 
them  myself.  But  among  others  was  that  of  recognizing  by 
this  marriage  the  great  oblicjations  the  kins;  had  received  from 
the  emperor  on  his  return  from  Poland  and  departure  thence; 
for  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  if  the  emperor  had  placed  the 
smallest  obstacle  in  his  way,  he  could  never  have  left  Poland 
or  reached  France  safely.  The  Poles  would  have  kejot  him 
had  he  not  departed  without  bidding  them  farewell ;  and  the 
Germans  lay  in  wait  for  him  on  all  sides  to  catch  him  (as 
they  did  that  brave  King  Pdchard  of  England  of  whom  we  read 
in  the  chronicles) ;  they  would  surely  have  taken  him  prisoner 
and  held  him  for  ransom,  and  perhaps  worse ;  for  they  were 
bitter  against  him  for  the  Saint-Bartholoiuew ;  or,  at  least, 


VARIOUS   ILLUSTRIOUS  LADIES.  267 

the  Protestant  princes  were.  But,  voluntarily  and  without 
ceremony,  he  threw  himself  in  good  faith  upon  the  em- 
peror, who  received  him  very  graciously  and  amiably,  and 
with  much  honour  and  privilege  as  though  they  w^ere 
brothers,  and  feasted  him  nobly ;  then,  after  having  kept 
him  several  days,  he  conducted  him  himself  for  a  day 
or  two,  giving  him  safe  passage  through  his  territory ;  so 
that  King  Henri,  by  his  favour,  reached  Carinthia,  the  land 
of  the  Venetians,  Venice,  and  then  his  own  kingdom. 

This  was  the  obligation  the  king  was  under  to  the  em- 
peror ;  so  that  many  persons,  as  I  have  said,  were  of  opinion 
tliat  King  Henri  III.  would  meet  it  by  drawing  closer  their 
alliance.  But  at  the  time  he  went  to  Poland  he  saw  at 
Blamont,  in  Lorraine,  Mademoiselle  de  Vaudemont,  Louise 
de  Lorraine,  one  of  the  handsomest,  best,  and  most  accom- 
plished princesses  in  Christendom,  on  whom  he  cast  his 
eyes  so  ardently  that  he  was  soon  in  love,  and  in  such  a 
manner  that  (nursing  his  flame  during  the  whole  of  his 
absence)  on  his  return  to  France  he  despatched  from  Lyon 
M.  du  Gua,  one  of  his  prime  favourites,  to  Lorraine,  where 
he  arranged  and  concluded  the  marriage  between  him  and 
her  very  easily,  and  without  altercation,  as  I  leave  you  to 
think ;  because  by  the  father  and  tlie  daughter  no  such  luck 
was  expected,  the  one  to  be  father-in-law  of  a  king  of 
France,  and  the  daughter  to  be  queen.  Of  her  I  shall  speak 
elsewhere. 

To  return  now  to  our  little  queen,  who,  disliking  to  remain 
in  France  for  several  reasons,  especially  because  she  was  not 
recognized  and  endowed  as  she  sliould  have  been,  resolved 
to  go  and  finish  the  remainder  of  her  noble  days  with  the 
emperor  and  empress,  her  father  and  mother.  When  there, 
the  Catholic  king  being  widowed  of  Queen  Anne  of  Austria, 
own  sister  to  Queen  Isabelle,  he  desired  to  espouse  the  latter, 


268  THE   BOOK   OF   THE   LADIES. 

and  sent  to  beg  the  empress,  his  own  sister,  to  lay  his  pro- 
posals before  her.  But  she  would  not  listen  to  them,  not 
the  first,  nor  the  second,  nor  the  third  time  her  mother  the 
empress  spoke  of  them ;  excusing  herself  on  the  honourable 
ashes  of  the  king,  her  husband,  which  she  would  not  insult 
by  a  second  marriage,  and  also  on  the  ground  of  too  great 
consanguinity  and  close  parentage  between  them,  which 
might  greatly  anger  God;  on  which  the  empress  and  her 
brother  the  king  urged  her  to  lay  the  matter  before  a  very 
learned  and  eloquent  Jesuit,  who  exhorted  and  preached  to 
her  as  much  as  he  could,  not  forgetting  to  quote  all  the 
passages  of  Holy  and  other  Scripture,  which  might  serve  his 
purpose.  But  the  queen  confounded  him  quickly  by  other 
quotations  as  fine  and  more  truthful,  for,  since  her  widow- 
hood, she  had  given  herself  to  the  study  of  God's  word ; 
besides  which,  she  told  him  her  determined  resolution,  which 
was  her  most  sacred  defence,  namely,  not  to  forget  her  hus- 
band in  a  second  marriage.  On  which  the  Jesuit  was  forced 
to  leave  her  without  gaining  anything.  But,  being  urged  to 
return  by  a  letter  from  the  King  of  Spain,  who  would  not 
accept  the  resolute  answer  of  the  princess,  he  treated  her 
with  rigorous  words  and  even  threats,  so  that  she,  not  willing 
to  lose  her  time  contesting  against  him,  cut  him  short  ])y 
saying  that  if  he  meddled  with  her  again  she  would  make 
liiui  repent  it,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to  threaten  to  have 
liim  whipped  in  her  kitchen.  I  have  also  heard,  but  I  do 
not  know  if  it  be  true,  that  this  Jesuit  having  returned  for 
the  third  time,  she  turned  away  and  had  him  chastised  for 
his  presumption.  I  do  not  believe  this  ;  for  she  loved  persons 
of  holy  lives,  as  those  men  are. 

Such  was  the  great  constancy  and  noble  firmness  of  this 
virtuous  queen,  which  she  kept  to  the  end  of  her  days,  towards 
the  venerated  bones  of   the  king  her   husl)and,  which    she 


VARIOUS  ILLUSTRIOUS  LADIES.  .  269 

honoured  incessantly  with  regrets  and  tears ;  and  not  being 
able  to  furnish  more  (for  a  fountain  must  in  the  end  dry  up) 
she  succumbed,  and  died  so  young  that  she  was  only  thirty- 
five  years  old  at  the  time  of  her  deatL  Loss  most  inesti- 
mable !  for  she  might  long  have  served  as  a  mirror  of  virtue 
to  the  honest  ladies  of  all  Christendom. 

If,  of  a  surety,  she  manifested  love  to  the  king  her  husband, 
by  her  constancy,  her  virtuous  continence,  and  her  con- 
tinual grief,  she  showed  it  still  more  in  her  behaviour  to  the 
Queen  of  Navarre,  her  sister-in-law ;  for,  knowing  her  to  be 
in  a  great  extremity  of  famine  in  the  castle  of  Usson  in 
Auvergne,  abandoned  by  most  of  her  relations  and  by  so 
many  others  whom  she  had  obliged,  she  sent  to  her  and 
offered  her  all  her  means,  and  so  provided  that  she  gave  her 
half  the  revenue  she  received  in  France,  sharing  with  her 
as  if  she  had  been  her  own  sister ;  and  they  say  Queen  Mar- 
guerite would  indeed  have  suffered  severely  without  this 
great  liberality  of  her  good  and  beautiful  sister.  Wherefore 
she  deferred  to  lier  much,  and  honoured  and  loved  her  so 
that  scarcely  could  she  bear  her  death  patiently,  as  people 
do  in  the  world,  but  took  to  her  bed  for  twenty  days,  weep- 
ing continually  with  constant  moans,  and  ever  since  has  not 
ceased  to  regret  and  deplore  her ;  expending  on  her  memory 
most  beautiful  words,  which  she  needed  not  to  borrow  from 
others,  in  order  to  praise  her  and  to  give  her  immortality. 
I  have  been  told  that  Queen  Isabelle  composed  and  printed 
a  beautiful  book  which  touched  on  the  word  of  God,  and 
also  another  concerning  histories  of  what  happened  in  France 
during  the  time  she  was  there.  I  know  not  if  this  be  true, 
but  I  am  assured  of  it,  and  also  that  persons  have  seen  that 
book  in  the  hands  of  the  Queen  of  Navarre,  to  whom  she 
sent  it  before  she  died,  and  who  set  great  store  by  it,  calling 
it  a  fine  thing ;  and  if  so  divine  an  oracle  said  so,  we  must 
believe  it. 


270  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES 

This  is  a  summary  of  what  I  have  to  say  of  our  good 
Queen  Isabelle,  of  her  goodness,  her  virtue,  her  continence, 
her  constancy,  and  of  her  loyal  love  to  the  king  her  husband. 
And  were  it  not  her  nature  to  be  good  and  virtuous  (I 
heard  M.  de  Langeac,  who  was  in  Spain  when  she  died,  tell 
how  the  empress  said  to  him :  "  That  which  was  best  among 
us  is  no  more  "),  we  might  suppose  that  in  all  her  actions 
Queen  Isabelle  sought  to  imitate  her  mother  and  her  aunts. 

2.  Jeanne  d'Autriche,  wife  of  Jean,  Infante  of  Portugal,  and 
mother  of  the  king,  Don  Sebastian. 

This  princess  of  Spain  was  of  great  beauty  and  very 
majestic,  or  she  would  not  have  been  a  Spanish  princess ; 
for  a  fine  carriage  and  good  grace  always  accompany  the 
majesty  of  a  Spanish  woman.  I  had  the  honour  of  seeing 
her  and  talking  with  her  rather  privately,  being  in  Spain  on 
my  way  back  from  Portugal.  I  had  gone  to  pay  my  respects 
to  our  Queen  of  Spain,  Elisabeth  of  France,  and  was  talking 
with  her,  she  asking  news  both  of  France  and  Portugal, 
when  they  came  to  tell  her  that  Madame  la  Princesse  Jeanne 
was  arriving.  On  which  the  queen  said  to  me,  "Do  not 
stir,  M.  de  Bourdeille.  You  will  see  a  beautiful  and  hon- 
ourable princess.  It  will  please  you  to  see  her,  and  she 
will  be  very  glad  to  see  you  and  ask  you  news  of  the  king 
her  son,  since  you  have  lately  seen  him."  Whereupon,  the 
princess  arrived,  and  I  thought  her  ver}^  beautiful  according 
to  my  taste,  very  well  attired,  and  wearing  on  her  head  a 
Spanish  toque  of  white  crepe  coming  low  in  a  point  upon 
her  nose,  and  dressed  as  a  Spanish  widow,  who  wears  silk 
usually.  I  admired  and  gazed  upon  her  so  fixedly  that  I 
was  on  the  point  of  feeling  ravished  when  the  queen  called 
me  and  said  that  Madame  la  princesse  wished  to  hear  from 
me  news  of  her  son  the  king ;  I  had  overheard  her  telling 


VAKIOUS  ILLUSTEIOUS  LADIES.  271 

the  princess  that  she  was  talking  with  a  gentleman  of  her 
brother's  Court  who  had  just  come  from  Portugal. 

On  which  I  approached  the  princess,  and  kissed  her  gown 
in  the  Spanish  manner.  She  received  me  very  gently  and 
intimately  ;  and  then  began  to  ask  me  news  of  the  king,  her 
son,  his  behaviour,  and  what  I  thought  of  him ;  for  at  that 
time  they  were  thinking  to  make  a  marriage  between  him 
and  Madame  Marguerite  de  France,  sister  of  the  king,  and  in 
these  days  Queen  of  Navarre.  I  told  her  everything ;  for  at 
that  time  I  spoke  Spanish  as  well  as,  or  better  than  French. 
Among  her  other  questions  she  asked  me  this :  "  Was  her 
son  handsome,  and  whom  did  he  resemble  ? "  I  told  her  he 
was  certainly  one  of  the  handsomest  princes  of  Christendom 
and  resembled  her  in  everything  and  was,  in  fact,  the  very 
image  of  her  beauty ;  at  which  she  gave  a  little  smile  and 
the  colour  came  into  her  face,  which  showed  much  gladness 
at  what  I  said.  After  talking  with  her  some  time  they  came 
to  call  the  queen  to  supper,  and  the  two  princesses  separated ; 
the  queen  saying  to  me  with  a  smile  :  "  You  have  given  her 
a  great  pleasure  in  what  you  said  of  the  resemblance  of  her 
son." 

And  afterwards  she  asked  me  what  I  thought  of  her; 
whether  I  did  not  think  her  an  honourable  woman  and  such 
as  she  had  described  her  to  me,  adding  :  "  I  think  she  would 
like  much  to  marry  the  king,  my  brother  [Charles  IX.],  and 
I  should  like  it,  too."  She  knew  I  should  repeat  this  to  the 
queen-mother  on  my  return  to  Court,  which  was  then  at  Aries 
in  Provence  ;  and  I  did  so ;  but  she  said  she  was  too  old  for 
him,  old  enough  to  be  his  mother.  I  told  the  queen-mother, 
however,  what  had  been  said  to  me  in  Spain,  on  good  author- 
ity, namely :  that  the  princess  had  said  she  was  firmly  re- 
solved not  to  marry  again  unless  with  the  King  of  France, 
and  failing  that  to  retire  from  the  world.     In  fact,  she  had 


272  THE   BOOK   or   THE   LADIES. 

SO  set  her  fancy  on  this  high  match  and  station,  for  her  heart 
was  very  lofty,  that  she  fully  believed  in  attaining  her  end 
and  contentment;  otherwise  she  meant  to  end  her  days,  as 
I  have  said,  in  a  monastery,  where  she  was  already  building 
a  house  for  her  retreat.  Accordingly  she  kept  this  hope  and 
belief  very  long  in  her  mind,  managing  her  widowhood  sagely, 
until  she  heard  of  the  marriage  of  the  king  to  her  niece  [Isa- 
belle],  and  then,  all  hope  being  lost,  she  said  these  words,  or 
something  like  them,  as  I  have  heard  tell :  "  Thougli  the 
niece  be  more  in  her  springtime  and  less  weighed  with 
years  than  the  aunt,  the  beauty  of  the  aunt,  now  in  its 
summer,  all  made  and  formed  by  charming  years,  and  bear- 
ing fruit,  is  worth  far  more  than  the  fruit  her  youthful 
blooms  give  promise  of ;  for  the  slightest  misadventure  will 
undo  them,  make  them  fall  and  perish,  no  more  no  less 
than  the  trees  of  spring,  which  with  their  lovely  blooms 
promise  fine  fruits  in  summer ;  but  an  evil  wind  may  blow 
and  beat  them  down  and  nought  be  left  but  leaves.  But 
let  it  be  done  to  the  will  of  God,  with  whom  I  now  shall 
marry  for  all  time,  and  not  with  others." 

As  she  said,  so  she  did,  and  led  so  good  and  holy  a  life 
apart  from  the  world  that  she  left  to  ladies,  both  great  and 
small,  a  noble  example  to  imitate.  There  may  be  some  who 
have  said :  "  Thank  God  she  could  not  marry  King  Charles, 
for  if  she  had  done  so  she  would  have  left  behind  the  hard 
conditions  of  widowhood  and  resumed  all  the  sweetness  of 
marriage."  That  may  be  presumed.  But  may  we  not,  on 
the  other  hand,  presume  that  the  great  desire  she  showed  the 
world  to  marry  that  great  king  was  a  form  and  maimer  of 
ostentation  and  Spanish  pride,  manifesting  her  lofty  aspira- 
tions which  she  would  not  lower  ?  —  for  seeing  her  sister  Marie 
Empress  of  Austria  and  wishing  to  equal  her  she  aspired  to 
be  Queen  of  France  which  is  worth  an  empire  —  or  more. 


VARIOUS  ILLUSTRIOUS  LADIES.  273 

To  conclude :  slie  was,  to  my  thinking,  one  of  the  most 
accomplished  foreign  princesses  I  have  ever  seen,  though  she 
may  be  blamed  for  retreating  from  the  world  more  from  vex- 
ation than  devotion ;  but  the  fact  remains  that  she  did  it ; 
and  her  good  and  saintly  end  has  shown  in  her  I  know  not 
what  of  sanctity. 

3.    Marie  cV Autriche,  wife  of  Louis,  King  of  Hungary 
[sister  of  the  Emperor  Charles  V.~\. 

Her  aunt,  Queen  Marie  of  Hungary,  did  the  same,  although 
at  a  more  advanced  age,  as  irmch  to  retire  from  the  world  as 
to  help  the  emperor,  her  brother,  to  serve  God  well  in  his 
retreat.  This  queen  became  a  widow  early,  having  lost 
King  Louis,  her  husband,  who  was  killed,  very  young,  in  a 
battle  against  the  Turks,  which  he  fought,  not  for  good  reason, 
but  by  persuasion  and  pertinacity  of  a  cardinal  who  governed 
him  much,  assuring  him  that  he  must  not  distrust  God  and 
His  just  cause,  for  if  there  were  but  ten  thousand  Hungarians, 
they,  being  good  Christians  and  fighting  for  God's  quarrel, 
could  make  an  end  of  a  hundred  thousand  Turks  ;  and  that 
cardinal  so  urged  and  pushed  him  to  the  point  that  he  fought 
and  lost  the  battle,  and  in  trying  to  retreat  he  fell  into  a 
marsh  and  was  smothered.  Such  are  the  blunders  of  men 
who  want  to  manage  armies  and  do  not  know  the  business. 

That  was  why  the  great  Due  de  Guise,  after  he  was  so 
greatly  deceived  on  his  journey  to  Italy,  said  frequently : 
"  I  love  the  Church  of  God,  but  I  will  never  undertake  an 
enterprise  of  war  on  the  word  or  faith  of  a  priest,"  —  meanin^'j 
by  that  to  lay  blame  on  Pope  Paul  IV.,  who  had  not  kept 
the  promises  he  made  him  with  great  and  solemn  words, 
and  also  on  M.  le  Cardinal,  his  brother,  who  had  sounded 
the  ford  as  far  as  Eome,  and  lightly  pushed  his  brother 
into  it. 

18 


274  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

To  return  to  our  great  Queen  Marie ;  after  this  misfor- 
tune to  her  husband  she  was  left  a  widow  very  young,  very 
beautiful,  as  I  have  heard  said  by  many  persons  who  knew 
her,  and  as  I  judge  myself  from  the  portraits  I  have  seen, 
which  represent  her  without  anything  ugly  to  find  fault  with, 
unless  it  be  her  large,  projecting  mouth  like  that  of  the  house 
of  Austria ;  though  it  does  not  really  come  from  the  house  of 
Austria,  but  from  that  of  Bourgogne  ;  for  I  have  heard  a 
lady  of  the  Court  of  those  times  relate  as  follows :  once 
when  Queen  El^onore,  passing  through  Dijon,  went  to  make 
her  devotions  at  the  Chartreux  monastery  of  that  town,  she 
visited  the  venerable  sepulchres  of  her  ancestors,  the  Dues 
de  Bourgogne,  and  was  curious  enough  to  have  them  opened, 
as  many  of  our  kings  have  done  with  theirs.  She  found 
them  so  well  preserved  that  she  recognized  some  by  various 
signs,  among  others  by  their  mouths,  on  which  she  suddenly 
cried  out :  "  Ha  !  I  thought  we  got  our  mouths  from  Austria, 
but  I  see  we  get  them  from  Marie  de  Bourgogne  and  the 
Dues  de  Bourgogne  our  ancestors.  If  I  see  my  brother  the 
emperor  again,  I  shall  tell  him  so,  or  else  I  shall  send  him 
word."  The  lady  who  was  present  told  me  that  she  heard 
this,  and  also  that  the  queen  spoke  as  if  taking  pleasure  in 
it ;  as  indeed  she  had  reason  to  do ;  for  the  house  of  Bour- 
gogne was  fully  worth  that  of  Austria,  since  it  came  from 
a  son  of  France,  Philippe  the  Bold,  and  had  gained  much 
property  and  great  generosities  of  valour  and  courage  from 
him  ;  for  I  believe  there  never  were  four  greater  dukes  com- 
ing one  after  the  other  than  those  four  Dues  de  Bourgogne. 
People  may  blame  me  sometimes  for  exaggerating ;  but  I 
ought  to  be  readily  pardoned,  because  I  do  not  know  the  art 
of  writing. 

Our  Queen  Marie  of  Hungary  was  very  beautiful  and 
agreeable,  though  she  was  always  a  trifle  masculine ;  but  in 


VARIOUS  ILLUSTRIOUS  LADIES.  275 

love  she  was  none  the  worse  for  that,  nor  in  war,  which  she 
took  as  her  principal  exercise.  The  emperor,  her  brother, 
knowing  how  fitted  for  war  and  very  able  she  v/as,  sent  for 
her  to  come  to  him,  and  there  invested  her  with  the  office 
which  had  belonged  to  her  Aunt  Marguerite  of  Flanders, 
who  had  governed  the  Low  Countries  with  as  much  mild- 
ness as  her  successor  now  showed  rigour.  Indeed,  so  long 
as  Madame  Marguerite  lived  King  rran9ois  never  turned 
his  wars  in  that  direction,  though  the  King  of  England 
urged  it  on  him ;  for  he  said  that  he  did  not  wish  to  annoy 
that  honest  princess,  who  had  shown  herself  so  good  to 
France  and  was  so  wise  and  virtuous,  and  yet  so  unfortunate 
in  her  marriages ;  the  first  of  which  was  with  King  Charles 
VIIL,  by  whom  she  was  sent  back  very  young  to  her  father's 
house ;  another  with  the  son  of  the  King  of  Arragon  named 
Jean,  by  whom  she  had  a  posthumous  child  who  died  as 
soon  as  he  was  born,  and  the  third  was  with  that  handsome 
Due  Philibert  of  Savoie,  by  whom  she  had  no  issue  ;  and 
for  this  reason  she  bore  for  her  device  the  words  Fortune 
inforhtne,  fors  une.  She  lies  with  her  husband  in  that 
beautiful  convent  at  Brou,  which  is  so  sumptuous,  near  the 
town  of  Bourg  in  Bresse,  where  I  liave  seen  it.^ 

Queen  Marie  of  Hungary  was  of  great  assistance  to  the 
emperor,  for  he  stood  alone.  It  is  true  he  had  Ferdinand, 
king  of  the  Eomans,  his  brother ;  but  he  was  forced  to 
show  front  against  that  great  Sultan  Solyman ;  also  he 
had  upon  his  hands  the  affairs  of  Italy,  which  were  then  in 
combustion ;  of  Germany,  which  were  little  better  because 
of  the  Grand  Turk ;  of  Hungary ;  of  Spain,  which  had 
revolted  under  M.  de  Chifevres ;  besides  the  Indies,  the  Low 

1  The  tomb  of  Marguerite  and  Philibert  is  still  to  be  seen  in  the  beauti- 
ful church,  and  the  above  motto,  which  is  carved  upon  it,  has  been  the 
theme  of  much  antiquarian  discussioa  —  Tb. 


276  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

Countries,  Barbary,  and  France,  the  greatest  burden  of  all 
In  short,  I  may  say  the  whole  world  almost. 

He  made  this  sister  Marie,  whom  he  loved  above  every- 
thing, governor-general  of  all  his  Low  Countries,  where  for  tlie 
space  of  twenty-two  or  three  years  she  served  him  so  well 
that  I  know  not  how  he  could  have  done  without  her. 
For  this  he  trusted  her  with  all  the  affairs  of  the  govern- 
ment, so  that  he  himself,  being  in  Flanders,  left  aU  to  her, 
and  the  Coimcil  was  held  by  her  in  her  own  house.  It  is 
true  that  she,  being  very  wise  and  clever,  deferred  to  him, 
and  reported  to  him  all  that  was  done  at  the  Council  when 
he  was  not  there,  in  which  he  took  much  pleasure. 

She  made  great  wars,  sometimes  by  her  lieutenants,  some- 
times in  person,  —  always  on  horseback  like  a  generrms 
amazon.  She  was  the  first  to  light  fires  and  conflagrations 
in  France,  —  some  in  very  noble  houses  and  chateaux  like 
that  of  FoUembray,  a  beautiful  and  charming  house  built 
by  our  kings  for  their  comfort  and  pleasure  in  liunting. 
The  king  took  this  with  such  wrath  and  displeasure  that 
before  long  he  returned  her  the  change  for  it,  and  revenged 
it  on  her  beautiful  mansion  of  Bains,  held  to  be  a  miracle 
of  the  world,  shaming  (if  I  may  say  so  from  what  I 
have  heard  those  say  who  saw  it  in  its  perfection)  the 
seven  wonders  of  the  world  renowned  in  antiquity.  She 
feted  there  the  Emperor  Charles  and  his  whole  Court,  when 
his  son,  King  Philip,  came  from  Spain  to  Flanders  to  see 
him ;  on  which  occasion  its  magnificences  were  seen  in  such 
excellence  and  perfection  that  nothing  was  talked  of  at 
that  time  but  las  fiestas  de  Bains,  as  the  Spaniards  say.  I 
remember  myself  that  on  the  journey  to  Bayonne  [where 
Catherine  de'  ]\redici  met  her  daughter  Ehsabeth  Queen 
of  Spain],  however  great  was  the  magnificence  there  pre- 
sented, in  tourneys,  combats,  masquerades,  and  money  ex- 


VARIOUS   ILLUSTRIOUS  LADIES.  277 

pended,  nothing  came  up  to  las  fiestas  de  Bains ;  so  said 
certain  old  Spanish  gentlemen  who  had  seen  them,  and  also 
as  I  saw  it  stated  in  a  Spanish  book  written  expressly  about 
them ;  so  that  one  could  well  say  that  nothing  finer  was 
ever  seen,  not  even,  begging  pardon  of  Koman  magnificence, 
the  games  of  ancient  times,  barring  the  combats  of  gladiators 
and  wild  beasts.  Except  for  them,  the  fetes  of  Bains  were 
finer  and  more  agreeable,  more  varied,  more  general. 

I  would  describe  them  here,  according  as  I  could  borrow 
them  from  that  Spanish  book  and  as  I  heard  of  them  from 
some  who  were  present,  even  from  Mme.  de  Fontaine,  born 
Torcy,  maid  of  honour  at  the  time  to  Queen  Eldonore ;  but  I 
might  be  blamed  for  being  too  digressive.  I  will  keep  it  for 
a  honne  hoiicJie  another  time,  for  the  thing  is  worth  it. 
Among  some  of  the  finest  magnificences  was  this :  Queen 
Marie  had  a  great  fortress  built  of  brick,  which  was  assaulted, 
defended,  and  succoured  by  six  thousand  foot-soldiers ;  can- 
nonaded by  thirty  pieces  of  cannon,  whether  in  the  batteries 
or  the  defences,  with  the  same  ceremonies  and  doings  as 
in  real  war ;  which  siege  lasted  three  days,  and  never  was 
anything  seen  so  fine,  the  emperor  taking  great  pleasure 
in  it. 

You  may  be  sure  that  if  this  queen  played  the  sumptuous 
it  was  because  she  wanted  to  show  her  brother  that  if  she 
held  her  States,  pensions,  benefits,  even  her  conquests,  through 
him,  all  were  devoted  to  his  glory  and  pleasure.  In  fact,  the 
said  emperor  was  greatly  pleased  and  praised  her  much ;  and 
reckoned  the  cost  very  high ;  especially  that  of  his  chamber 
which  was  hung  with  tapestry  of  splendid  w^arp,  of  silver 
and  gold  and  silk,  on  which  were  figured  and  represented, 
the  size  of  life,  all  his  fine  conquests,  great  enterprises,  expe- 
ditions of  war,  and  the  battles  he  had  fought,  given,  and  won, 
above  all,  not  forgetting  the  flight  of  Solyman  before  Vienna, 


278  THE   BOOK   OF   THE   LADIES. 

and  the  capture  of  King  Francois.  In  short,  there  was 
nothing  in  it  that  was  not  exquisite. 

But  the  noble  house  lost  its  lustre  soon  after,  being  totally 
pillaged,  ruined,  and  razed  to  the  ground.  I  have  heard  say 
that  its  mistress,  when  she  heard  of  its  ruin,  fell  into  such 
distress,  anger,  and  rage  that  for  long  she  could  not  be  paci- 
hed.  Passing  near  there  some  time  later  she  wished  to  see 
the  ruins,  and  gazing  at  them  very  piteously  with  tears  in 
her  eyes,  she  swore  that  all  France  should  repent  of  the  deed, 
for  never  should  she  be  at  her  ease  until  that  fine  Fontaine- 
bleau,  of  which  they  thought  so  much,  was  razed  to  tlie 
ground  with  not  one  stone  left  upon  another.  In  fact, 
she  vomited  her  rage  upon  poor  Picardy,  which  felt  it  in 
flames.  And  we  may  believe  that  if  peace  had  not  inter- 
vened, her  vengeance  would  have  been  greater  still ;  for  she 
had  a  stem,  hard  heart,  not  easily  appeased,  and  was  thought 
to  be,  on  her  side  as  much  as  on  ours,  too  cruel.  But  such  is 
the  nature  of  women,  even  the  greatest,  who  are  very  quick 
to  vengeance  when  offended.  The  emperor,  it  was  said,  loved 
her  the  better  for  it. 

I  have  heard  it  related  how,  w^hen  at  Brussels,  the  emperor, 
in  the  great  haU  where  he  had  called  together  the  general 
Assembly,  in  order  to  give  up  and  despoil  himself  of  his 
States,  after  making  an  harangue  and  saying  all  he  wished 
to  say  to  the  Assembly  and  to  his  son,  humbly  thanked 
Queen  Marie,  his  sister,  who  was  seated  beside  him.  On 
which  she  rose  from  her  seat  and,  with  a  grand  curtsey  made 
to  her  brother  with  great  and  grave  majesty  and  composed 
grace,  she  said,  addressing  her  speech  to  the  people :  "  Mes- 
sieurs, since  for  twenty-three  years  it  has  pleased  the  em- 
peror, my  brother,  to  give  me  the  charge  and  government  of 
all  his  Low  Countries,  I  have  employed  and  used  therein  all 
that  Crod,  nature,  and  fortune  have  given  me  of  means  and 


VARIOUS  ILLUSTRIOUS  LADIES.  279 

graces  to  acquit  myself  as  well  as  possible.  And  if  in  any- 
thing I  have  been  in  fault,  I  am  excusable,  thinking  I  have 
never  forgotten  what  I  should  remember,  nor  spared  what 
was  proper.  Nevertheless,  if  I  have  been  lacking  in  any  way 
I  beg  you  to  pardon  me.  But  if,  in  spite  of  this,  some  of  you 
will  not  do  so,  and  remain  discontented  with  me,  it  is  the 
least  thing  I  care  for,  inasmuch  as  the  emperor,  my  brother, 
is  content;  for  to  please  him  alone  has  been  my  greatest 
desire  and  solicitude."  So  saying,  and  having  made  another 
grand  curtsey  to  the  emperor,  she  resumed  her  seat.  I  have 
heard  it  said  that  this  speech  was  thought  too  haughty  and 
defiant,  both  as  relating  to  her  office,  and  as  bidding  adieu  to 
a  people  whom  she  ought  to  have  left  with  a  good  word  and 
in  grief  at  her  departure.  But  what  did  she  care,  —  inasmuch 
as  she  had  no  other  object  than  to  please  and  content  her 
brother  and,  from  that  moment,  to  quit  the  world  and  keep 
company  with  that  brother  in  his  retreat  and  his  prayers 
[1556]  ? 

I  heard  all  this  related  by  a  gentleman  of  my  brother  who 
was  then  in  Brussels,  having  gone  there  to  negotiate  the  ran- 
som of  my  said  brother  who  was  taken  prisoner  at  Hesdin 
and  confined  five  years  at  Lisle  in  Flanders.  The  said  gen- 
tleman witnessed  this  Assembly  and  all  these  sad  acts  of  the 
emperor;  and  he  told  me  that  many  persons  were  rather 
scandalized  under  their  breaths  at  this  proud  speech  of  the 
queen ;  though  they  dared  say  nothing,  nor  let  it  be  seen, 
for  they  knew  they  had  to  do  with  a  maitresse-femme  who 
would,  if  irritated,  deal  them  some  blow  as  a  parting  gift. 
But  here  she  was,  relieved  of  her  office,  so  that  she  accom- 
panied her  brother  to  Spain  and  never  left  him  again,  she, 
and  her  sister,  Queen  El^onore,  until  he  lay  in  his  tomb ;  the 
three  surviving  exactly  a  year  one  after  the  other.  The 
emperor  died  first,  the  Queen  of  France,  being  the  elder,  next, 


280  THE   BOOK   OF   THE   LADIES. 

and  the  Queen  of  Hungary  last,  —  both  sisters  having  very 
virtuously  governed  their  widowhood.  It  is  true  that  the 
Queen  of  Hungary  was  longer  a  widow  than  her  sister  with- 
out remarrjang ;  for  her  sister  married  twice,  as  much  to  be 
Queen  of  France,  which  was  a  fine  morsel,  as  by  prayer  and 
persuasion  of  the  emperor,  in  order  that  she  might  serve  as  a 
seal  to  secure  peace  and  public  tranquillity  ;  though,  indeed, 
this  seal  did  not  last  long,  for  war  broke  out  again  soon  after, 
more  cruel  than  ever ;  but  the  poor  princess  could  not  help 
that,  for  she  had  brought  to  Trance  all  she  could;  though 
the  king,  her  husband,  treated  her  no  better  for  that,  but 
cursed  his  marriage,  as  I  have  heard  say. 

4.  Louise  de  Lorraine,  icife  of  Henri  LLL.,  King  of  France. 

We  can  and  should  praise  this  princess  who,  in  her  mar- 
riage, behaved  to  the  king,  her  husband,  so  wisely,  chastely, 
and  loyally  that  the  tie  wliich  bound  her  to  him  remained 
indissoluble  and  was  never  loosened  or  undone,  although  the 
king  her  husband,  loving  change,  went  after  others,  as  the 
fashion  is  with  these  great  persons,  who  have  a  liberty  of 
their  own  apart  from  other  men.  Moreover,  within  the  first 
ten  days  of  their  marriage  he  gave  her  cause  for  discontent- 
ment, for  he  took  away  her  waitiug-maids  and  the  ladies 
who  had  been  with  her  and  brought  her  up  from  childhood, 
whom  she  regretted  much  ;  and  more  especially  the  sting 
went  deep  into  her  heart  on  account  of  Mile,  de  Changy,  a 
beautiful  and  very  honourable  young  lady,  who  should  never 
have  been  banished  from  the  company  of  her  mistress,  or 
from  Court.  It  is  a  great  vexation  to  lose  a  good  companion 
and  a  confidante. 

I  know  that  one  of  the  said  queen's  most  intimate  ladies 
vras  so  presumptuous  as  t(j  say  to  her  one  day,  laiigliing  and 
joking,  that  since  she  had  no  children  by  the  king  and  could 


//v/'    .  /'.    //<///-/     /// 


VARIOUS  ILLUSTRIOUS  LADIES.  281 

never  have  them,  for  reasons  that  were  talked  of  in  those 
days,  she  would  do  well  to  borrow  a  third  and  secret  means 
to  have  them,  in  order  not  to  be  left  without  authority  when 
the  king  should  die,  but  rather  be  mother  to  a  king  and 
hold  the  rank  and  grandeur  of  the  present  queen-mother,  her 
mother-in-law.  But  she  rejected  this  bouffonesque  advice, 
taking  it  in  very  bad  part  and  nevermore  liking  the  good 
lady-counsellor.  She  preferred  to  rest  her  grandeur  on  her 
chastity  and  virtue  than  upon  a  lineage  issuing  from  vice : 
counsel  of  the  world !  which,  according  to  the  doctrine  of 
Macchiavelli,  ought  not  to  be  rejected. 

But  our  Queen  Louise,  so  wise  and  chaste  and  virtuous, 
did  not  desire,  either  by  true  or  false  means,  to  become 
queen-mother;  though,  had  she  been  willing  to  play  such 
a  game,  things  would  have  been  other  than  they  are;  for 
no  one  would  have  taken  notice,  and  many  would  have  been 
confounded.  For  this  reason  the  present  king  [Henri  IV.] 
owes  much  to  her,  and  should  have  loved  and  honoured  her  ; 
for  had  she  played  the  trick  and  produced  the  child,  he 
would  only  have  been  regent  of  France,  and  perhaps  not 
that,  and  such  weak  title  would  not  have  guaranteed  us  from 
more  wars  and  evils  than  we  have  so  far  had.  Still,  I  have 
heard  many,  religious  as  well  as  worldly  people,  say  and  hold 
to  this  conclusion,  namely :  that  Queen  Louise  would  have 
done  better  to  play  that  game,  for  then  France  would  not 
have  had  the  ruin  and  misery  she  has  had,  and  will  have, 
and  that  Christianity  would  have  been  the  better  for  it.  I 
make  this  question  over  to  worthy  and  inquiring  discoursers 
to  give  their  opinion  on  it ;  it  is  a  brave  subject  and  an  ample 
one  for  the  State ;  but  not  for  God,  methinks,  to  whom  our 
queen  was  so  inclined,  loving  and  adoring  Him  so  truly  that 
to  serve  Him  she  forgot  herself  and  her  high  condition.  For, 
1)eing  a  very  beautiful  princess  (in  fact  the  king  took  her  for 


2S2  THE   BOOK   OF  THE   LADIES. 

her  beauty  and  virtue),  and  young,  delicate,  and  very  lovable, 
she  devoted  herself  to  no  other  purpose  than  serving  God, 
going  to  prayers,  visiting  the  hospitals  continually  nursing 
the  sick,  burying  the  dead,  and  omitting  nothing  of  all  the 
good  and  saintly  works  performed  by  saintly  and  devoted 
good  women,  princesses,  and  queens  in  the  times  past  of  the 
primitive  Church.  After  the  death  of  the  king,  her  husband, 
she  did  the  same,  employing  her  time  in  mourning  and 
regretting  him,  and  in  praying  to  God  for  his  soul ;  so  that 
her  widowed  life  was  much  the  same  as  her  married  hfe. 

She  was  suspected  during  the  lifetime  of  her  husband  of 
leaning  a  little  to  the  party  of  the  Union  [League]  because, 
good  Christian  and  Catholic  that  she  was,  she  loved  all  who 
fought  and  combated  for  her  faith  and  her  rehgion  ;  but  she 
never  loved  these  and  left  them  wholly  after  they  killed  her 
husband ;  demanding  no  other  vengeance  or  punishment  than 
what  it  pleased  God  to  send  them,  asking  the  same  of  men 
and,  above  all,  of  our  present  king  ;  who  should,  however,  have 
done  justice  on  that  monstrous  deed  done  to  a  sacred  person. 

Thus  lived  this  princess  in  marriage  and  died  in  widovr- 
hood.  She  died  in  a  reputation  most  beautiful  and  worthy 
of  her,  having  linsrered  and  languished  lonj?,  without  taking; 
care  of  herself  and  giving  way  too  much  to  her  sadness. 
She  made  a  noble  and  religious  end.  Before  she  died  she 
ordered  her  crown  to  be  placed  on  the  pillow  beside  her,  and 
would  not  have  it  moved  as  long  as  she  lived ;  and  after  her 
death  she  was  crowned  with  it,  and  remained  so. 

5.  Marguerite  de  Lorraine,  wife  of  Anne,  Dilc  de  Joyeusc} 

Queen  Louise  left  a  sister,  Madame  de  Joyeuse,  who  has 
imitated   her   modest   and   chaste   life,  having  made   great 

1  The  picture  of  the  Ball  at  Court,  unrlcr  Henri  HI.,  attributed  to  Fran- 
cois Clouet  (see  chapter  ii.  of  this  volume),  was  given  in  celebration  of  her 


VARIOUS  ILLUSTRIOUS  LADIES.  283 

mourning  and  lamentation  for  her  husband,  a  brave,  valiant, 
and  accomplished  seigneur.  And  I  have  heard  say  that 
when  the  present  king  was  so  tightly  pressed  in  Brest,  where 
M.  du  Maine  with  forty  thousand  men  held  him  besieged  and 
tied  up  in  a  sack,  that  if  she  had  been  in  the  place  of  the 
Due  de  Chartres,  who  commanded  within,  she  would  have 
revenged  the  death  of  her  husband  far  better  than  did  the 
said  duke,  who  on  account  of  the  obligations  he  owed  the 
Due  de  Joyeuse,  should  have  done  better.  Since  when,  she 
has  never  liked  him,  but  hated  him  more  than  the  plague, 
not  being  able  to  excuse  such  a  fault;  though  there  are 
some  who  say  that  he  kept  the  faith  and  loyalty  he  had 
promised. 

But  a  woman  justly  or  unjustly  offended  does  not  listen 
to  excuses ;  nor  did  this  one,  who  never  again  loved  our 
present  king ;  but  she  greatly  regretted  the  late  one  [Henri 
III.]  although  she  belonged  to  the  League ;  but  she  always 
said  that  she  and  her  husband  were  under  extreme  obliga- 
tions to  him.  To  conclude :  she  was  a  good  and  virtuous 
princess,  who  deserves  honour  for  the  grief  she  gave  to  the 
ashes  of  her  husband  for  some  time,  although  she  remarried 
in  the  end  with  M.  de  Luxembourg.  Being  a  woman,  why 
should  she  languish  ? 

6.  Christine  of  Denmark,  niece  of  the  Emperor  Charles  V. 
Duchcsse  de  ZorraAne. 

After  the  departure  of  the  Queen  of  Hungary  no  great 
princess  remained  near  King  Philip  II.  [to  whom  Charles 
V.  resigned   the   Low  Countries,  Naples,  and    Sicily  1555] 

marriage.  She  advances,  with  lier  sweet  and  modest  face  (evidently  a 
portrait)  in  the  centre  of  the  picture.  Henri  III.  is  seated  under  a  red 
dais;  next  him  is  Catherine  de'  Medici,  his  mother,  and  next  to  her  is 
Louise  de  Lorraine,  liis  wife  ;  leanins  on  the  king's  chair  is  Henri  Due  de 
Guise,  le  Balafr6,  murdered  by  Henri  IIJ.  at  Blois  in  1588. — Tb. 


284  THE   BOOK  OF  THE   LADIES. 

except  the  Duchesse  de  Lorraine,  Christine  of  Denmark, 
his  cousin-german,  since  called  her  Highness,  who  kept 
him  good  company  so  long  as  he  stayed  in  Flanders,  and 
made  his  Court  shine ;  for  the  Court  of  every  king,  prince, 
emperor,  or  monarch,  however  grand  it  be,  is  of  little 
account  if  it  be  not  accompanied  and  made  desirable  by 
the  Court  of  queen,  empress,  or  great  princess  with  numer- 
ous ladies  and  damoiselles ;  as  I  have  well  perceived  myself 
and  heard  discoursed  of  and  said  by  the  greatest  personages. 

This  princess,  to  my  thinking,  was  one  of  the  most  beauti- 
ful and  accomplished  princesses  I  have  ever  seen.  Her  face 
was  very  agreeable,  her  figure  tall,  and  her  carriage  fine; 
especially  did  she  dress  herself  well, — so  well  that,  in  her 
time,  she  gave  to  our  ladies  of  France  and  to  her  own  a 
pattern  and  model  for  dressing  the  head  with  a  coiffure  and 
veil,  called  tt  la  Lorraine;  and  a  fine  sight  it  was  on  our 
Court  ladies,  who  wore  it  only  for  fetes  or  great  magnifi- 
cences, in  order  to  adorn  and  display  themselves,  as  did  all 
Lorraine,  in  honour  of  her  Highness.  Above  all,  she  had 
one  of  the  prettiest  hands  that  were  ever  seen ;  indeed  1 
have  heard  our  queen-mother  praise  it  and  compare  it  with 
her  own.  She  held  herself  finely  on  horseback  with  vei-y 
good  grace,  and  always  rode  with  stirrup  and  pommel,  as 
she  had  learned  from  her  aunt,  Queen  Mary  of  Hungary. 
I  have  heard  say  tliat  the  queen-mother  learned  tliis  fashion 
from  her,  for  up  to  that  time  she  rode  on  tlie  plank,  which 
certainly  does  not  show  the  grace  or  the  fine  action  with  the 
stirrup.  She  liked  to  imitate  in  riding  the  queen,  her  aunt, 
and  never  mounted  any  but  Spanish  or  Turkish  horses, 
barbs,  or  very  fine  jennets  which  went  at  an  amble ;  I 
have  known  her  have  at  one  time  a  dozen  very  fine  ones, 
of  which  it  would  bo  hard  to  say  wliich  was  the  finest. 

Her  aunt,  the  queen,  Ir)^■ed  her  much,  finding  her  suited  to 


VARIOUS  ILLUSTRIOUS  LADIES.  285 

her  humour,  whether  in  the  exercises,  hunting  and  other,  that 
she  loved,  or  in.  the  virtues  that  she  knew  she  possessed. 
While  her  husband  lived  she  often  went  to  Flanders  to  sec 
her  aunt,  as  Mme.  de  Fontaine  told  me;  but  after  she 
became  a  widow,  and  especially  after  they  took  her  son 
away  from  her,  she  left  Lorraine  in  anger,  for  her  heart  was 
very  lofty,  and  made  her  abode  with  the  emperor  her  uncle, 
and  the  queens  her  aunts,  who  gladly  received  her. 

She  bore  very  impatiently  the  parting  from  this  son, 
though  King  Henri  made  every  excuse  to  her,  and  declared 
he  intended  to  adopt  him  as  a  son.  But  not  being  pacified, 
and  seeing  that  they  were  giving  the  old  fellow  M.  de  la 
Brousse  to  her  son  as  governor,  taking  away  from  him  M.  de 
Montbardon,  a  very  wise  and  honourable  gentleman  whom 
the  emperor  had  appointed,  having  known  him  for  a  very 
long  time,  this  princess,  finding  how  desperate  the  matter 
was,  came  to  see  King  Henri  on  a  Holy  Thursday  in  the 
great  gallery  at  Nancy,  where  the  Court  then  was ;  and  with 
very  composed  grace  and  that  great  beauty  which  made  her 
so  admired,  and  without  being  awed  or  abating  in  any  way 
her  grandeur,  she  made  him  a  great  curtsey,  entreating  him, 
and  explaining  with  tears  in  her  eyes  (which  only  made  her 
the  more  beautiful)  the  wrong  he  did  in  taking  her  son  from 
her,  —  an  object  so  dear  to  her  heart  and  all  she  had  in  the 
world ;  also  that  she  did  not  merit  such  treatment,  in  view 
of  the  great  family  from  which  she  came;  besides  which 
she  believed  she  had  never  done  anything  against  his  service. 
She  said  these  things  so  well,  with  such  good  grace  and 
reasoning,  and  made  her  complaint  so  gently  that  the  king, 
who  was  always  courteous  to  ladies,  had  great  compassion 
for  her,  —  not  only  he,  but  all  the  princes  and  the  great  and 
the  little  people  who  saw  that  sight. 

The   king,  who  was   the  most  respectful   king   to  ladies 


286  THE    BOOK  OF   THE   LADIES. 

that  was  ever  in  France,  answered  lier  most  civilly ;  not 
with  a  flourish  of  words  or  a  great  harangue,  as  Paradin  in 
his  History  of  France  represents,  for  of  himself  and  by 
nature  he  was  not  at  all  prolix,  nor  copious  in  words  nor 
a  great  haranguer.  Moreover,  there  is  no  need  nor  would 
it  be  becoming  that  a  king  should  imitate  in  his  speech  a 
philosopher  or  an  orator;  so  that  the  shortest  words  and 
briefest  answers  are  best  for  a  king ;  as  I  have  heard  M. 
de  Pibrac  say,  whose  instruction  was  very  sound  on  account 
of  the  learning  that  was  in  him.  Therefore,  whoever  reads 
that  harangue  of  Paradin,  made,  or  presumed  to  be  made 
by  King  Henri,  should  believe  none  of  it,  for  I  have  heard 
several  great  persons  who  were  present  declare  that  he  could 
not  have  heard  that  answer  or  that  discourse  as  he  says 
he  did.  Very  true  it  is  that  the  king  consoled  her  civilly 
and  modestly  on  the  desolation  she  expressed,  and  told  her 
she  had  no  reason  to  be  troubled,  because  to  secure  his 
safety,  and  not  from  enmity,  did  he  wish  to  keep  her  son 
beside  him,  and  put  him  with  his  own  eldest  son  to  have 
the  same  education,  same  manner  of  life,  same  fortune  ;  and 
since  he  was  of  French  extraction,  and  himself  Frencli,  he 
could  be  better  brought  up  at  the  Court  of  France,  among 
the  French,  where  he  had  relations  and  friends.  Kor  did  he 
forget  to  remind  her  that  the  house  of  Lorraine  was  more 
obliged  to  France  than  any  house  in  Christendom,  remind- 
ing her  of  the  obligation  of  the  Due  de  Lorraine  in  respect 
to  Due  Charles  de  Bourfjome,  who  was  killed  at  Xanov. 

But  all  these  fine  words  and  reasons  could  not  console 
her  or  make  her  bear  her  sorrow  patiently.  So  that,  hav- 
ing made  her  curtsey,  still  shedding  many  precious  tears, 
she  retired  to  her  chamber,  to  the  door  of  which  the  king 
conducted  her ;  and  the  next  day,  before  hi'^  departure,  she 
went  to  see  him  in  hi?  chamber  to  take  leave  of  him,  but 


VARIOUS  ILLUSTRIOUS  LADIES.  287 

could  not  obtain  her  request.  Therefore,  seeing  her  dear 
son  taken  before  her  eyes  and  departing  for  France,  she 
resolved,  on  her  side,  to  leave  Lorraine  and  retire  to  Flanders, 
to  her  uncle,  the  emperor  (how  fine  a  word !),  and  to  her 
cousin  King  Philip  and  the  queens,  her  aunts  (what 
alliance !  what  titles !),  which  she  did ;  and  never  stirred 
thence  till  after  the  peace  made  between  the  two  kings, 
when  he  of  Spain  crossed  the  seas  and  went  away. 

She  did  much  for  this  peace,  I  might  say  all ;  for  the 
deputies,  as  much  on  one  side  as  on  the  other,  as  I  have 
heard  tell,  after  much  pains  and  time  consumed  at  Cercan 
[Cateau-Cambr^sis]  without  doing  or  concluding  anything, 
were  all  at  fault  and  off  the  scent,  like  huntsmen,  when 
she,  being  either  instinct  with  the  divine  spirit,  or  moved 
by  good  Christian  zeal  and  her  natural  good  sense,  under- 
took this  great  negotiation  and  conducted  it  so  well  that 
the  end  was  fortunate  throughout  all  Christendom.  Also  it 
was  said  that  no  one  could  have  been  found  more  proper 
to  move  and  place  that  great  rock ;  for  she  was  a  very 
clever  and  judicious  lady  if  ever  there  was  one,  and  of  fine 
and  grand  authority ;  and  certainly  small  and  low  persons 
are  not  so  proper  for  that  as  the  great.  On  the  other  hand 
the  kmg,  her  cousin  [PhiHp  II.],  believed  and  trusted  her 
greatly,  esteeming  her  much,  and  loving  her  with  a  great 
affection  and  love ;  as  indeed  he  should,  for  she  gave  his 
Court  great  value  and  made  it  shine,  when  otherwise  it 
would  have  been  obscure.  Though  afterwards,  as  I  have 
been  told,  he  did  not  treat  her  too  well  in  the  matter  of  her 
estates  which  came  to  her  as  dowry  in  the  duchy  of  Milan ; 
she  having  been  married  first  to  Due  Sforza,  for,  as  I  have 
heard  say,  he  took  and  curtailed  her  of  some. 

I  was  told  that  after  the  death  of  her  son  she  remained 
^n  very  ill  terms  with  M.  de    Guise  and  his  brother,  the 


288  THE   BOOK   OF  THE   LADIES. 

Cardinal,  accusing  them  of  having  persuaded  the  king  to 
keep  her  son  on  account  of  their  ambition  to  see  and  have 
their  near  cousin  adopted  son  and  married  to  the  house  of 
France ;  besides  which,  she  had  refused  some  time  before 
to  take  M.  de  Guise  in  marriage,  he  having  asked  her  to 
do  so.  She,  who  was  haughty  to  the  very  extreme,  rephed 
that  she  would  never  marry  the  younger  of  a  house  whose 
eldest  had  been  her  husband ;  and  for  that  refusal  M.  de 
Guise  bore  her  a  grudge  ever  after,  —  though  indeed  he  lost 
nothing  by  the  change  to  Madame  his  wife,  whom  he  mar- 
ried soon  after,  for  she  was  of  very  illustrious  birth  and  grand- 
daughter of  Louis  XII.,  one  of  the  bravest  and  best  kings 
that  ever  wore  the  crown  of  France  ;  and,  what  is  more,  she 
was  the  handsomest  woman  in  Christendom. 

I  have  heard  tell  that  the  first  time  these  two  handsome 
princesses  saw  each  other,  they  were  each  so  contemplative 
the  one  of  the  other,  turning  their  eyes  sometimes  cross- 
ways,  sometimes  sideways,  that  neither  could  look  enough, 
so  fixed  and  attentive  were  they  to  watch  each  other.  I 
leave  you  to  think  what  thoughts  they  were  turning  in 
their  fine  souls ;  not  more  nor  less  than  those  we  read  of 
just  before  the  great  battle  in  Africa  between  Scipio  and 
Hannibal  (which  was  the  final  settlement  of  the  war  be- 
tween Eome  and  Carthage),  when  those  two  great  captains 
met  together  during  a  truce  of  two  hours,  and,  having  ap- 
proached each  other,  they  stood  for  a  little  space  of  time,  lost 
in  contemplation  the  one  of  the  other,  each  ravished  by  the 
valour  of  his  companion,  both  renowned  for  their  noble 
deeds,  so  well  represented  in  their  faces,  their  bodies,  and 
their  fine  and  warlike  ways  and  gestures.  And  then,  hav- 
ing stood  for  some  time  thus  wrapt  in  meditation  of  each 
other,  they  began  to  negotiate  in  the  manner  that  Titus 
Livius  describes  so  well.     That   is   what   virtue    is,  which 


VARIOUS  ILLUSTRIOUS  LADIES.  289 

makes  itself  admired  amid  hatreds  and  enmities,  as  beaiitj 
among  jealousies,  like  that  of  the  two  ladies  and  princesses 
I  have  just  been  speaking  of. 

Certainly  their  beauty  and  grace  may  be  reckoned  equal, 
though  Mme.  de  Guise  could  slightly  have  carried  the  day ; 
but  she  was  content  without  it,  —  being  not  at  all  vain  or 
superb,  but  the  sweetest,  best,  humblest,  and  most  affable 
princess  that  could  ever  be  seen.  In  her  way,  however,  she 
was  brave  and  proud,  for  nature  had  made  her  such,  as  much 
by  beauty  and  form  as  by  her  grave  bearing  and  noble 
majesty;  so  much  so  that  on  seeing  her  one  feared  to 
approach  her;  but  having  approached  her  one  found  only 
sweetness,  candour,  gayety ;  getting  it  all  from  her  grand- 
father, that  good  father  of  his  people,  and  the  sweet  air  of 
France.  True  it  is,  she  knew  well  how  to  keep  her  grandeur 
and  glory  when  need  was. 

Her  Highness  of  Lorraine  was,  on  the  contrary,  very 
vain-glorious,  and  rather  too  presumptuous.  I  saw  that 
sometimes  in  relation  to  Queen  Marie  Stuart  of  Scotland, 
who,  being  a  widow,  made  a  journey  to  Lorraine,  on  which 
I  went ;  and  you  would  have  said  that  very  often  her  said 
Highness  was  determined  to  equal  the  majesty  of  the  said 
queen.  But  the  latter,  being  very  clever  and  of  great  cour- 
age, never  let  her  pass  the  line,  or  make  any  advance ; 
although  Queen  Marie  was  always  gentle,  because  her  uncle, 
the  Cardinal,  had  warned  and  instructed  her  as  to  the  tem- 
per of  her  said  Highness.  Then  she,  being  unable  to  be  rid 
of  her  pride,  thought  to  soothe  it  a  little  on  the  queen-mother 
when  they  met.  But  that  indeed  was  pride  to  pride  and  a 
half  ;  for  the  queen-mother  was  the  proudest  woman  on  earth 
when  she  chose  to  be.  I  have  heard  her  called  so  by  many 
great  personages  ;  for  when  it  was  necessary  to  repress  the 
vainglory  of  some  one  who  wanted  to  seem  of  importance 

19 


290  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

she  knew  how  to  abase  him  to  the  centre  of  the  earth.  How- 
ever, she  bore  herself  civilly  to  her  Highness,  deferring  to 
her  much  and  honouring  her ;  but  always  holding  the  bridle 
in  hand,  sometimes  high,  sometimes  low,  for  fear  she  should 
get  away ;  and  I  heard  her  myself  say,  two  or  three  times : 
"  That  is  the  most  vainglorious  woman  I  ever  saw." 

The  same  thing  happened  when  her  Highness  came  to  the 
coronation  of  the  late  King  Charles  IX.  at  Eeims,  to  which 
she  was  invited.  When  she  arrived,  she  would  not  enter  the 
town  on  horseback,  fearing  she  could  not  thus  show  her 
grandeur  and  high  estate ;  but  she  put  herself  into  a  most 
superb  carriage,  entirely  covered  with  black  velvet,  on  account 
of  her  widowhood,  which  was  drawn  by  four  Turk  horses, 
the  finest  that  could  be  chosen,  and  harnessed  all  four  abreast 
after  the  manner  of  a  triumphal  car.  She  sat  by  the  door, 
very  well  dressed,  but  all  in  black,  in  a  gown  of  velvet;  but 
her  head  was  white  and  very  handsomely  and  superbly 
coiffed  and  adorned.  At  the  other  door  of  her  carriage  was 
one  of  her  daughters,  afterwards  Mme.  la  Duchesse  de 
Bavifere,  and  within  was  the  Princesse  de  Mac^doine,  her 
lady  of  honour. 

The  queen-mother,  wishing  to  see  her  enter  the  courtyard 
in  this  triumphal  manner,  placed  herself  at  a  window  and 
said,  quite  low,  "  There 's  a  proud  woman  !  "  Then  her  High- 
ness having  descended  from  her  carriage  and  come  upstairs, 
the  queen  advanced  to  receive  her  at  the  middle  of  the  room, 
not  a  step  beyond,  and  rather  nearer  the  door  than  farther 
from  it.  There  she  received  her  very  well ;  because  at  that 
time  she  governed  everything.  King  Charles  being  so  young ; 
and  did  all  she  wished,  which  was  certainly  a  great  honour 
to  her  Highness.  All  the  Court,  from  the  highest  to  the 
lowest,  esteemed  and  admired  her  much  and  thought  her 
very  handsome,  although  she  was  declining  in  years,  being 


VARIOUS  ILLUSTRIOUS  LADIES.  291 

at  that  time  rather  more  than  forty:  but  nothing  as  yet 
showed  it,  her  autumn  surpassing  the  summer  of  others. 

She  died  one  year  after  hearing  the  news  that  she  was 
Queen  of  Denmark,  from  which  she  came,  and  that  the  king- 
dom had  fallen  to  her ;  so  that  before  her  death  she  was  able 
to  change  the  title  of  Highness,  she  had  borne  so  long,  to 
that  of  Majesty.  And  yet,  for  all  that,  as  I  have  heard,  she 
was  resolved  not  to  go  to  her  kingdom,  but  to  end  her  days 
in  her  dower-house  at  Tortonia  in  Italy,  where  the  country- 
side called  her  only  Madame  de  Tortonia ;  she  having  retired 
there  some  time  before  her  death,  as  much  because  of  cer- 
tain vows  she  had  made  to  the  saints  of  those  parts  as  to 
be  near  the  baths  of  Tortonia,  she  being  feeble  in  health 
and  very  gouty. 

Her  practices  were  fine,  saintly,  and  honourable,  to  wit : 
praying  God,  giving  alms,  and  doing  great  charity  to  the  poor, 
above  all  to  widows.  This  is  a  summary  of  what  I  have 
heard  of  this  great  princess,  who,  though  a  widow  and  very 
beautiful,  conducted  herself  virtuously.  It  is  true  that  one 
might  say  she  was  married  twice :  first  with  Due  Sforza,  but 
he  died  at  once ;  they  did  not  live  a  year  together  before  she 
was  a  widow  at  fifteen.  Then  her  uncle,  the  Emperor 
Charles  V.,  remarried  her  to  the  Due  de  Lorraine,  to 
strengthen  his  alliance  with  him  ;  but  there  again  she  was  a 
widow  in  the  flower  of  her  age,  having  enjoyed  that  fine 
marriage  but  a  very  few  years  j  and  those  that  remained  to 
her,  which  were  her  finest  and  most  precious  in  usefulness, 
she  kept  and  consumed  in  a  chaste  widowhood. 

7.   Marie  d'Autriche,  wife  of  the  JEmperor  Maximilian  II. 

This  empress,  though  she  was  left  a  widow  quite  young 
and  very  beautiful,  would  never  marry  again,  but  contained 
herself  and  continued  in  widowhood  very  virtuously,  having 


292  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

left  Austria  and  Germany,  the  scene  of  her  empire,  after 
the  death  of  her  husband.  She  returned  to  her  brother, 
Philip  II.  in  Spain ;  he  having  sent  for  her,  and  begged 
her  to  come  and  assist  him  with  the  heavy  burden  of  his 
affairs,  which  she  did ;  being  a  very  wise  and  judicious 
princess.  I  have  heard  the  late  King  Henri  III.  say,  —  and 
he  was  a  better  judge  of  people  than  any  man  in  his  king- 
dom,—  that  to  his  mind  she  was  one  of  the  ablest  and  most 
honourable  princesses  in  the  world. 

On  her  way  to  Spain,  after  crossing  the  Germanys,  she 
came  to  Italy  and  Genoa,  where  she  embarked ;  and  as  it  was 
winter  and  the  month  of  December  when  she  set  sail,  bad 
weather  overtook  her  near  Marseille,  where  she  was  forced 
to  put  in  and  anchor.  But  still,  for  all  that,  she  would  not 
enter  the  port,  neither  her  own  galley  nor  the  others,  for 
fear  of  causing  suspicion  or  offence.  Only  once  did  she 
enter  the  town,  just  to  see  it.  She  remained  there  eight 
days  awaiting  fair  weather.  Her  best  exercise  was  in  the 
mornings,  when  she  left  her  galley  (where  she  slept)  and 
went  to  hear  mass  and  service  at  the  church  of  Saint- Victor, 
with  very  ardent  devotion.  Then  her  dinner  was  brought 
and  prepared  in  the  abbey,  where  she  dined;  and  after 
dinner  she  talked  with  her  women  or  with  certain  gentle- 
men from  Marseille,  who  paid  her  all  the  honour  and 
reverence  that  were  due  to  so  great  a  princess ;  for  King 
Henri  had  commanded  them  to  receive  her  as  they  would 
himself,  in  return  for  the  good  greeting  and  cheer  she  had 
given  him  in  Vienna.  So  soon  as  she  perceived  this  she 
showed  herself  most  friendly,  and  spoke  to  them  very  freely 
both  in  German  and  in  French ;  so  that  they  were  well  con- 
tent with  her  and  she  with  them,  selecting  twenty  especially ; 
among  them  M.  Castellan,  called  the  Seigneur  Altivity,  cap- 
tain of  the  galleys,  who  was  distinguished  for  having  mar- 


VAKIOUS  ILLUSTRIOUS  LADIES.  293 

ried  tlie  beautiful  Chateauneuf  at  Court,  and  also  for  having 
killed  the  Grand-prior,  as  I  shall  relate  elsewhere. 

It  was  his  wife  who  told  me  all  that  I  now  relate,  and 
discoursed  to  me  about  the  perfections  of  this  great  princess ; 
and  how  she  admired  Marseille,  thinking  it  very  fine,  and 
went  about  with  her  on  her  promenades.  At  night  she  re- 
turned to  her  galley,  so  that  if  the  fine  weather  and  the 
good  wind  came,  she  might  quickly  set  sail.  I  was  at  our 
Court  when  news  was  brought  to  the  king  of  this  passing 
visit ;  and  I  saw  him  very  uneasy  lest  she  should  not  be 
received  as  she  ought  to  be,  and  as  he  wished.  This  princess 
still  lives,  and  continues  in  all  her  fine  virtues.  She  greatly 
helped  and  served  her  brother,  as  I  have  been  told.  Since 
then  she  has  retired  to  a  convent  of  women  called  the  "  bare- 
footed "  [CarmeHtes],  because  they  wear  neither  shoes  nor 
stockings.     Her  sister,  the  Princess  of  Spain,  founded  them. 

8.   BlancJi4  de  Montferrat,  Duchesse  de  Savoie. 

While  I  am  on  this  subject  of  noble  widows  I  must  say 
two  words  of  one  of  past  times,  namely:  that  honourable 
widow,  Madame  Blanche  de  Montferrat,  one  of  the  most 
ancient  houses  in  Italy,  who  was  Duchesse  de  Savoie  and 
thought  to  be  the  handsomest  and  most  perfect  princess  of 
her  time  ;  also  very  virtuous  and  judicious,  for  she  governed 
wisely  the  minority  of  her  son  and  his  estates ;  she  being 
left  a  widow  at  the  age  of  twenty-three. 

It  was  she  who  received  so  honourably  our  young  King 
Charles  ^T^II.  when  he  went  to  his  kingdom  of  Naples, 
through  all  her  lands  and  principally  her  city  of  Turin, 
where  she  gave  him  a  pompous  entry,  and  met  him  in  per- 
son, very  sumptuously  accoutred.  She  showed  she  felt 
herself  a  great  lady ;  for  she  appeared  that  day  in  magnifi- 
cent state,  dressed   in  a  grand  gown  of  crinkled  cloth  of 


294  THE  BOOK  OP  THE   LADIES. 

gold,  edged  with  large  diamonds,  rubies,  sapphires,  emeralds, 
and  other  precious  stones.  Round  her  throat  she  wore  a 
necklace  of  very  large  oriental  pearls,  the  value  of  which 
none  could  estimate,  with  bracelets  of  the  same.  She  was 
mounted  on  a  beautiful  white  ambling  mare,  harnessed  most 
superbly  and  led  by  six  lacqueys  dressed  in  figured  cloth  of 
gold.  A  great  band  of  damoiselles  followed  her,  very  richly, 
daintily,  and  neatly  dressed  in  the  Piedmont  fashion,  which 
was  fine  to  see ;  and  after  them  came  a  very  long  troop  of 
noblemen  and  knights  of  the  country.  Then  there  entered 
and  marched  King  Charles,  beneath  a  rich  canopy,  and  went 
to  the  castle,  where  he  lodged,  and  where  Madame  de  Savoie 
presented  to  him  her  son,  who  was  very  young.  After  which 
she  made  the  king  a  fine  harangue,  offering  her  lands  and 
means,  both  hers  and  her  son's ;  which  the  king  received 
with  very  good  heart,  and  thanked  her  much,  feeUng  greatly 
obliged  to  her.  Throughout  the  town  were  everywhere  seen 
the  arms  of  France  and  those  of  Savoie  interlaced  in  a  great 
lover's-knot,  which  bound  together  the  two  escutcheons  and 
the  two  orders,  with  these  words :  Sanguinis  arctus  amor  ; 
as  may  be  read  in  the  "  Chronicles  of  Savoie." 

I  have  heard  several  of  our  fathers  and  mothers,  who  got 
it  from  their  parents,  and  also  Mademoiselle  the  Sdn^chale 
de  Poitou,  my  grandmother,  then  a  damoiselle  at  Court,  affirm 
that  nothing  was  talked  of  but  the  beauty,  wisdom,  and 
wit  of  this  princess,  when  the  courtiers  and  gallants  returned 
from  their  journey  ;  and,  above  all,  by  the  king,  who  seemed, 
from  appearance,  to  be  wounded  in  his  heart. 

At  any  rate,  even  without  her  beauty,  he  had  good  reason 
to  love  her ;  for  she  aided  him  with  all  the  means  in  her 
power,  and  gave  up  her  jewels  and  pearls  and  precious  stones 
to  send  them  to  him  that  he  might  use  them  and  pledge 
them  as  he  pleased ;  which  was  indeed  a  very  great  obliga- 


VARIOUS  ILLUSTRIOUS  LADIES.  295 

tion,  for  ladies  bear  a  great  affection  to  their  precious  stones 
and  rings  and  jewels,  and  would  sooner  give  and  pledge 
some  precious  piece  of  their  person  than  their  wealth  of 
jewels  —  I  speak  of  some,  not  all.  Certainly  this  obligation 
was  great;  for  without  this  courtesy,  and  that  also  of  the 
Marquise  de  Montferrat,  a  very  virtuous  lady  and  very  hand- 
some, he  would  have  met  in  the  long  run  a  short  shame,  and 
must  have  returned  from  the  semi-journey  he  had  under- 
taken without  money ;  having  done  worse  than  that  bishop 
of  France  who  went  to  the  Council  of  Trent  without  money 
and  without  Latin.  "What  an  embarkation  without  biscuit ! 
However,  there  is  a  difference  between  the  two ;  for  what 
one  did  was  out  of  noble  generosity  and  fine  ambition,  which 
closed  his  eyes  to  all  inconveniency,  thinking  nothing  im- 
possible to  his  brave  heart ;  while  as  for  the  other,  he  lacked 
wit  and  ability,  sinning  in  that  through  ignorance  and 
stupidity  —  if  it  was  not  that  he  trusted  to  beg  them  when 
he  got  there. 

In  this  discourse  that  I  have  made  of  that  fine  entry, 
there  is  to  be  noted  the  superbness  of  the  accoutrements 
of  this  princess,  which  seem  to  be  more  those  of  a  married 
woman  than  a  widow.  Upon  which  the  ladies  said  that  for 
so  great  a  king  she  could  dispense  with  mourning ;  and  also 
that  great  people,  men  and  women,  gave  the  law  to  them- 
selves ;  and  besides,  that  in  those  times  the  widows,  so  it 
was  said,  were  not  so  restricted  nor  so  reformed  in  their 
clothes  as  they  have  been  since  for  the  last  forty  years  ; 
like  a  certain  lady  whom  I  know,  who,  being  in  the  good 
graces  and  delights  of  a  king  [probably  Diane  de  Poitiers] 
dressed  herself  much  d,  la  modest  (though  always  in  silk),  the 
better  to  cover  and  hide  her  game  ;  and  in  that  respect,  the 
widows  of  the  Court,  wishing  to  imitate  her,  did  the  same. 
But  this  lady  did  not  reform  herself  so  much,  nor  to  such 


296  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

austerity,  that  she  ceased  to  dress  prettily  and  pompously, 
though  always  in  black  and  white  ;  indeed  there  seemed 
more  of  worldliness  than  of  widow's  reformation  about  it : 
for  especially  did  she  always  show  her  beautiful  bosom.  I 
have  heard  the  queen,  mother  of  King  Henri,  say  the  same 
thing  at  the  coronation  and  wedding  of  King  Henri  III., 
namely :  that  the  widows  in  times  past  did  not  have  such 
great  regard  to  their  clothes  and  to  modesty  of  actions  as 
they  have  to-day ;  the  which  she  said  she  saw  in  the  times 
of  King  FranQois,  who  wanted  his  Court  to  be  free  in  every 
way ;  and  even  the  widows  danced,  and  the  partners  took 
them  as  readily  as  if  they  were  girls  or  married  women. 
She  said  on  this  point  that  she  commanded  and  begged 
M.  de  Vaudemont  to  honour  the  fete  by  taking  out  Madame 
la  Prmcesse  de  Condd,  the  dowager,  to  dance ;  which  he  did 
to  obey  her ;  and  he  took  the  princess  to  the  grand  ball ; 
those  who  were  at  the  coronation,  like  myself,  saw  it,  and 
remember  it  welL  These  were  the  liberties  that  widows 
had  in  the  olden  time.  To-day  such  things  are  forbidden 
them  like  sacrilege  ;  and  as  for  colours,  tliey  dare  not  wear 
them,  or  dress  in  anything  but  black  and  white ;  though 
their  skirts  and  petticoats  and  also  their  stockings  they  may 
wear  of  a  tan-gray,  violet,  or  blue.  Some  that  I  see  emanci- 
pate themselves  in  flesh-coloured  red  and  chamois  colour,  as 
in  times  past,  when,  as  I  have  heard  said,  all  colours  could 
be  worn  in  petticoats  and  stockings,  but  not  in  gowns. 

So  this  duchess,  about  whom  we  have  been  speaking, 
could  very  well  wear  this  gown  of  cloth  of  gold,  that  being 
her  ducal  garment  and  her  robe  of  grandeur,  the  whicli  was 
becoming  and  permissible  in  her  to  show  her  sovereignty 
and  dignity  of  duchess.  Our  widows  of  to-day  dare  not  wear 
precious  stones,  except  on  their  fingers,  on  some  miiTors,  on 
some  "  Hours,"  and  on  their  belts  ;  but  never  on  their  heads 


VARIOUS  ILLUSTRIOUS  LADIES.  297 

or  bodies,  unless  a  few  pearls  on  their  neck  and  arms.  But 
I  swear  to  you  I  have  seen  widows  as  dainty  as  could  be 
in  their  black  and  white  gowns,  who  attracted  quite  as 
many  and  as  much  as  the  bedizened  brides  and  maidens  of 
France.     There  is  enough  said  now  of  this  foreign  widow. 

9.     Catherine   de    CUves,   wife   of   Henri    I.   de   Lorraine, 
Due  de  Guise. 

Madame  de  Guise,  Catherine  de  Cloves,  one  of  the  three 
daughters  of  Nevers  (three  princesses  who  cannot  be  lauded 
enough  either  for  their  beauty  or  their  virtues,  and  of  whom 
I  hope  to  make  a  chapter),  has  celebrated  and  celebrates 
daily  the  eternal  absence  of  her  husband  [Le  Balafr^,  killed 
at  Blois  1588].  But  oh  !  what  a  husband  he  was  !  The 
none-such  of  the  world !  That  is  what  she  called  him  in 
several  letters  which  she  wrote  to  certain  ladies  of  her  in- 
timacy whom  she  held  in  esteem,  after  her  misfortune ; 
manifesting  in  sad  and  grievous  words  the  regrets  of  her 
wounded  soul. 

10.  Madame  de  Bourdeille. 

Madame  de  Bourdeille,  issuing  from  the  illustrious  and 
ancient  house  of  Montb^ron,  and  from  the  Comtes  de  P^ri- 
gord  and  the  Vicomtes  d'Aunay,  became  a  widow  at  the 
age  of  thirty-seven  or  thirty-eight,  very  beautiful  (in  Guyenne, 
where  she  lived,  it  was  believed  that  none  surpassed  her  in 
her  day  for  beauty,  grace,  and  noble  appearance)  ;  and  being 
thus  in  fine  estate  and  widowed,  she  was  sought  in  marriage 
and  pursued  by  three  very  great  and  rich  seigneurs,  to  whom 
she  answered :  — 

"  I  shall  not  say  as  many  ladies  do,  who  declare  they  will 
never  marry,  and  give  their  word  in  such  a  way  that  they 
must  be  believed,  after  which  nothing  comes  of  it ;  but  I 


298  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LADIES. 

do  say  that,  if  God  and  flesh  do  not  give  me  any  other 
wishes  than  I  have  at  present,  it  is  a  very  certain  thing  that 
I  have  bade  farewell  to  marriage  forever." 

And  then,  as  some  one  said  to  her,  "  But,  madame,  would 
you  burn  of  love  in  the  flower  of  your  age  ? "  she  answered  : 
"  I  know  not  what  you  mean.  For  up  to  this  hour  I  have 
never  been  even  warmed,  but  widowed  and  cold  as  ice.  Still, 
I  do  not  say  that,  being  in  company  with  a  second  husband 
and  approaching  his  fire,  I  might  not  bum,  as  you  think. 
But  because  cold  is  easier  to  bear  than  heat,  I  am  resolved 
to  remain  in  my  present  quality  and  to  abstain  from  a  second 
marriage." 

And  just  as  she  said  then,  so  she  has  remained  to  the 
present  day,  a  widow  these  twelve  years,  without  the  least 
losing  her  beauty,  but  always  nourishing  it  and  taking  care 
of  it,  so  that  it  has  not  a  single  spot.  Which  is  a  great 
respect  to  the  ashes  of  her  husband,  and  a  proof  that  she 
loved  him  well ;  also  an  injunction  on  her  children  to 
honour  her  always.  The  late  M.  Strozzi  was  one  of  those 
who  courted  her  and  asked  her  in  marriage ;  but  great  as 
he  was  and  allied  to  the  queen-mother,  she  refused  him  and 
excused  herself  kindly.  But  what  a  humour  was  this ! 
to  be  beautiful,  virtuous,  a  very  rich  heiress,  and  yet  to  end 
her  days  on  a  solitary  feather-bed  and  blanket,  desolate  and 
cold  as  ice,  and  thus  to  pass  so  many  widowed  nights  !  Oh ! 
how  many  there  be  unlike  this  lady  —  but  some  are  like  her, 
too. 


APPENDIX. 


(See  page  30.) 

Under  Louis  XII.  the  French  fleet  and  the  English  fleet 
met,  August  10,  1513,  off  the  heights  of  Saint-Mach^  in 
Lower  Bretagne.  The  Enghsh  fleet,  eighty  vessels  strong, 
attacked  that  of  France,  which  had  but  twenty.  The  French 
made  up  for  numbers  by  courage  and  ability.  They  seized 
the  advantage  of  the  wind,  fouled  the  enemy's  ships  and 
shattered  them,  and  sent  more  than  half  to  the  bottom. 
The  Breton  Primauguet  was  captain  of  "  La  Cordehfere ;"  the 
vessel  constructed  after  the  orders  of  Queen  Anne  ;  it  could 
carry  twelve  hundred  soldiers  besides  the  crew.  He  was 
attacked  by  twelve  English  vessels,  defended  himself  with 
a  courage  that  amounted  to  fury,  sunk  a  number  of  the 
enemy's  vessels,  and  drove  off  the  rest.  One  captain  alone 
dared  approach  him  again,  flinging  rockets  on  board  of  him, 
and  so  setting  fire  to  the  vessel.  Primauguet  might  have 
saved  himself  in  the  long-boat,  as  did  some  of  the  officers 
and  soldiers ;  but  that  valiant  sailor  would  not  survive  the 
loss  of  his  ship ;  he  only  thought  of  selling  his  life  dearly 
and  taking  from  the  Enghsh  the  pleasure  of  enjoying  the 
defeat  of  the  French.  Though  all  a-fire,  he  sailed  upon  the 
flag-ship  of  the  enemy,  the  "  Regent  of  England,"  grappled 
her,  set  fire  to  her,  and  blew  up  with  her  an  instant  later. 
More  than  three  thousand  men  perished  in  this  action  by 


300  APPENDIX. 

cannon,  fire,  and  water.     It  is  one  of  the  most  glorious  pages 
in  our  maritime  annals. 

French  editor  of  "  Vie  des  Dames  Illustres," 
Garniei>Frferes.     Paris. 

IL 

(See  page  44.) 
This  is  doubtless  the  Discours  merveilleux  de  la,  vie,  actions, 
et  cUportemens  de  la  reine  Catherine  de  Medicis,  attributed  to 
Theodore  de  Bfeze,  also  to  de  Serres,  but  with  more  proba- 
bility to  Henri  Etienne ;  coming  certainly  from  the  hand  of 
a  master.  It  was  printed  and  spread  about  publicly  in 
1574  with  the  date  of  1575  ;  inserted  soon  after  in  the 
Memoires  d'etat  sous  Charles  IX.,  printed  in  1577  in  three 
volumes,  8vo,  and  subsequently  in  the  various  editions  of 
the  Beceuil    de  diverses  jpieces  jpour  servir  d,    Vhistoire   du 

rlgne  de  Henri  III. 

French  editor. 

III. 

(See  page  91.) 
M.  de  Maison-Fleur  was  a  gentleman  of  the  Bordeaux 
region,  a  Huguenot,  and  a  somewhat  celebrated  poet  in  his 
day,  whose  principal  work,  Les  Divins  Cantiques,  was  printed 
for  the  first  time  at  Antwerp  in  1580,  and  several  times 
reprinted  in  succeeding  years.  For  details  on  this  poet,  see 
the  Bihliotheque  Frangaise  of  the  Abb^  Goujet. 

French  editor. 

lY. 

(See  page  92.) 

We  see,  'neath  white  attire, 
In  mourning  great  and  sadness, 
Passing,  -with  many  a  charm 
Of  beauty,  this  fair  goddess, 
Holding  the  shaft  in  hand 
Of  her  son,  heartless. 


APPENDIX.  301 

And  Love,  without  his  frontlet, 
Fluttering  round  her, 
Hiding  his  bandaged  eyes 
With  veil  of  mourning 
On  which  these  words  are  writ : 

DiK  OR  BE  CAPTURED. 

V. 

(See  page  94.) 

Translation  as  nearly  literal  as  possible. 

In  my  sad,  sweet  song, 
In  tones  most  lamentable 
I  cast  my  cutting  grief 
Of  loss  incomparable ; 
And  in  poignant  sighs 
I  pass  my  best  of  years. 

Was  ever  such  an  ill 

Of  hard  destiny. 

Or  so  sad  a  sorrow 

Of  a  happy  lady. 

That  my  heart  and  eye 

Should  gaze  on  bier  and  coffin? 

That  I,  in  my  sweet  springtide, 

In  the  flower  of  youth, 

All  these  pains  should  feel 

Of  excessive  sadness, 

With  naught  to  give  me  pleasure 

Except  regret  and  yearning  ? 

That  which  to  me  was  pleasant 
Now  is  hard  and  painful ; 
The  brightest  light  of  day 
Is  darkness  black  and  dismal ; 
Nothing  is  now  delight 
In  that  of  me  required. 

I  have,  in  heart  and  eye, 
A  portrait  and  an  image 


302  APPENDIX. 

That  mark  my  mourning  life 
And  my  pale  visage 
With  violet  tones  that  are 
The  tint  of  grieving  lovers. 

For  my  restless  sorrow 

I  can  rest  nowhere ; 

Why  should  I  change  in  place 

Since  sorrow  will  not  efface? 

My  worst  and  yet  my  best 

Are  in  the  loneliest  places. 

■\Vhen  in  some  still  sojourn 
In  forest  or  in  field, 
Be  it  by  dawn  of  day, 
Or  in  the  vesper  hour, 
Unceasing  feels  my  heart 
Regret  for  one  departed. 

If  sometimes  toward  the  skies 
My  glance  uplifts  itself, 
The  gentle  iris  of  his  eyes 
I  see  in  clouds  ;  or  else 
I  see  it  in  the  water, 
As  in  a  gTave. 

If  I  lie  at  rest 
Slumbering  on  my  couch, 
I  hear  him  speak  to  me, 
I  feel  his  touch ; 
In  labour,  in  repose, 
He  is  ever  near  me. 

I  see  no  other  object. 
Though  beauteous  it  may  be 
In  many  a  subject, 
To  which  my  heart  consents. 
Since  its  perfection  lacks 
In  this  affection. 

End  here,  my  song, 
Thy  sad  complaint. 


APPENDIX.  303 

Of  which  be  this  the  burden : 
True  love,  not  feigned, 
Because  of  separation 
Shall  have  no  diminution. 


VL 

(See  page  235.) 

This  book,  entitled  Les  Marguerites  de  la  Marguerite  des 
princesses,  is  a  collection  of  the  poems  of  this  princess,  made 
by  Simon  de  La  Haie,  surnamed  Sylvius,  her  valet  de  cham- 
hre,  and  printed  at  Lyon,  by  Jean  de  Tournes,  1547,  8vo. 

The  Nouvelles  of  the  Queen  of  Navarre  appeared  for  the 
first  time  without  the  name  of  the  author,  under  the  title : 
Histoire  des  Amants  fortunes,  dediee  h  Villustre  ^^^incesse, 
Madame  Marguerite  de  Bourbon,  Duchesse  de  Nivernois,  by 
Pierre  Boaistuau,  called  Launay.  Paris,  1558  4to.  This  edi- 
tion contains  only  sixty-seven  tales,  and  the  text  has  been 
garbled  by  Boaistuau.  The  second  edition  is  entitled : 
Heptameron  des  Nouvelles  de  tres-illustre  et  tres-excellente 
princesse  Marguerite  de  Valois,  reine  de  Navarre,  remis  en  son 
vrai  ordre,  by  Charles  Gruget,  Paris,  1559,  4to. 

French  editor. 

In  1841  M.  Genin  published  a  volume  of  Queen  Margue- 
rite's letters,  and  in  the  following  year  a  volume  of  her  letters 
addressed  to  Frangois  I. 

Since  then  Comte  H.  de  La  Ferrifere-Percy  has  made  her 
the  subject  of  an  interesting  "  Study."  This  careful  investi- 
gator having  discovered  her  book  of  expenses,  kept  by  Frott^, 
Marguerite's  secretary,  has  developed  from  it  a  daily  proof  of 
the  beneficent  spirit  and  inexhaustible  liberality  of  the  good 
queen.  The  title  of  the  book  is :  Marguerite  d'Angouleme, 
sceur  de  Francois  F^.     Aubry  :  Paris,  1862. 


304  APPENDIX. 

The  poems  of  Frangois  I.,  with  other  verses  by  his  sister  and 
mother,  were  published  in  1847  by  M.  Aim^  Champollion. 

Notes  to  Sainte-Beuve's  Essay. 


VIL 

(See  page  262.) 

The  Ladies  given  in  Discourse  VII.  appear  under  the  head 

of  "  The  Widows  "  in  the  volume  of  Les  Dames  Galantes,  a 

very  different  book  from  the  Zivre  des  Dames,  which  is  their 

rightful  place.     As  Brantome  placed  them  under  the  title  of 

Widows,  he  has  naturally  enlarged  chiefly  upon  the  period 

of  their  widowhood. 

French  editor. 


INDEX. 


Anne  de  Bretagne,  Queen  of  France, 
wife  of  Charles  VIII.  and  of  Louis 
XII.,  her  inheritance,  lovers,  and 
first  marriage,  25,  26  ;  her  beauty, 
wisdom,  and  goodness,  26 ;  spirit  of 
revenge,  27,  28 ;  second  marriage, 
29  ;  the  first  queen  to  hold  a  great 
court,  a  noble  school  for  ladies,  29, 
30;  how  King  Louis  honoured  her, 
30-32 ;  her  death  and  burial,  32-34  ; 
her  noble  record,  34, 35,  37  ;  her  tomb 
at  Saint-Denis,  39  ;  the  founder  of  a 
school  of  manners  and  perfection  for 
her  sex,  42,  43;  Sainte-Beuve's  re- 
marks upon  her,  40-43,  219. 

Anne  de  France  (Madame),  daughter 
of  Louis  XL,  216-218. 

Blanche  de  Montferrat,  Duchesse 
de  Savoie,  293-297. 

Book  of  the  Ladies  (The),  Bran- 
tome's  own  name  for  this  volume,  1. 

BouRDEiLLE  (Madame  de),  297,  298. 

Bourdeille  (Pierre  de),  Abbe  de 
Brant6m.e,  his  name  for  the  present 
volume,  1 ;  origin  and  arms  of  his 
family,  3,  4 ;  general  sketch  of  his 
life  and  career,  4-19;  his  retirement, 
20 ;  his  books,  his  will,  21  ;  titles  of 
his  books,  when  first  printed,  22, 
23. 

Caste LNAUD    (Pierre  de),  his  account 

of  Brantome,  1-  3. 
Catherine  de  Cloves,  wife  of  Henri 

de    Lorraine,    Due    de    Guise,    "  le 

Balafre,"  297. 
Catherine    de'    Medici,    Queen    of 

France,  wife  of  Henri  II.,  44  ;  sketch 


of  the  Medici,  45-48;  her  marriage 
to  the  dauphin,  48-50;  personal  ap- 
pearance and  tastes,  51-54;  her  mind, 
54 ;  conduct  as  regent  and  queen- 
mother,  Brantome's  defence  of  it, 
57-72 ;  her  liberality  and  public 
works,  74 ;  her  accomplishments  and 
majesty,  75-77 ;  her  court,  77-80, 
81,  82 ;  Henri  IV. 's  opinion  of  it,  83  ; 
her  death  at  Blois,  83 ;  Sainte-Beuve's 
estimate  of  her,  85-88 ;  H.  de  Balzac's 
novel  upon  her,  86 ;  Mezeray's  opinion 
of  her,  85  ;  her  daughter  Elisabeth's 
fear  of  her,  145,  146;  164,  165,  167, 
289,  290,  300. 

Charles  IX.,  King  of  France,  his 
funeral  attended  by  Brantome,  35- 
37;  198,  264,  265,  271,  272. 

Charlotte  de  France  (Madame), 
daughter  of  Francois  I.  and  Queen 
Claude,  died  young,  223. 

Chastellard  (Seigneur  de),  his  jour- 
ney with  Brantome  in  attendance  on 
Marie  Stuart  to  Scotland,  99 ;  his 
story  and  death,  117-120. 

Christine  of  Denmark,  wife  of  the 
Due  de  Lorraine,  283-291. 

Claude  de  France  (Madame),  daugh- 
ter of  Louis  XII.  and  Anne  de 
Bretagne,  wife  of  Francois  I.,  died 
young, 223. 

Claude  de  France  (Madame),  daugh- 
ter of  Henri  II.  and  Catherine  de' 
Medici,  wife  of  the  Due  de  Lorraine, 
229-231. 

CoRDELii:RE  (La),  man-o'-war  built 
by  Anne  de  Bretagne,  which  fought 
the  "  Regent  of  England,"  both  shipa 
destroyed,  30,  299. 


20 


306 


INDEX. 


Daegattd  (M.),  his  impulsive  history 
of  Marie  Stuart,  122. 

Diane  de  Feance  (Madame),  Du- 
chesse  d'Angouleme,  illegitimate 
daughter  of  Henri  II.,  231-234. 

^feLisABETH  DB  France,  Queeu  of 
Spain,  daughter  of  Henri  II.  and 
Catherine  de'  Medici,  second  wife  of 
Philip  II.  of  Spain,  137-151,  229, 
230,  270,  271. 

fiLiSABETH  DE  France,  Queeu  of 
Spain,  daughter  of  Henri  IV.  and 
Marie  de'  Medici,  her  portraits  by 
Kubens,  212. 

Fleur-de-lis,  how  connected  with  the 

Florentine  lily,  45. 
Francois  I.,  King  of  France,  219,  220, 

236,  237,  238,  241,  245-249,  254. 

Germai\e  de  Foix,  wife  of  King 
Ferdinand  of  Spain,  142,  143. 

Guise  (Henri  I.,  Due  de),  le  Balafre, 
117,  198,  199,  273,  283,  288. 

Guise  (Catherine  de  Cleves,  Duchesse 
de),  288,  289. 

Henri  II.,  King  of  France,  231,  232. 
Henri  III.,  King  of  France,  177,  178, 

180,  184,  196-198,  234,  267,  280,  283, 

285,  286,  292. 
Henri  IV.,  King  of  France,  opinion 

of  Catherine"de'  Medici,  83,  87,  88 ; 

176,  180,  181,    201,   209;   remark  at 

the  coronation  of  Marie  de'  Medici, 

210;  234. 

IsABELLE  d'Autriche,  Quccn  of 
France,  daughter  of  Maximilian  II., 
wife  of  Charles  IX.  of  France,  262- 
270. 

Isabella  of  Bavaria,  wife  of  Charles 
VI.  of  France,  first  brought  the  pomps 
and  fashions  of  dress  to  France,  157. 

Jeanne    d'Autriche,   wife   of    Jean, 

Infante  of  Portugal,  270-273, 
Jeanne  db  France  (Madame),  daugh- 


ter of  Louis  XI.,  married  to  and  di- 
vorced by  Louis  XII.,  215,  216. 

Labanoff  (Prince  Alexander),  his 
careful  research  into  the  history  of 
Marie  Stuart,  121. 

L'HopiTAL  (Michel  de),  chancellor  of 
France,  epithalamium  on  the  mar- 
riage of  Marie  Stuart  and  Fran9ois  II., 
124;  his  changed  feeling,  131,  132. 

Louis_XII.,  King  of  France,  25,  29,  30, 
31,  32,  39,  41-43. 

Louise  db  France  (Madame),  daugh- 
ter of  Fran9ois  I.  and  Queen  Claude, 
died  young,  223. 

Louise  de  Lorraine,  Queen  of 
France,  wife  of  Henri  III.,  280-282, 
283. 

Magdelaine  de  France  (Madame), 
daughter  of  Francois  I.  and  Queen 
Claude,  wife  of  James  V.  of  Scot- 
land, 223,  224. 

Maintenon  (Madame  de),  a  pendant 
to  Anne  de  Bretagne,  43. 

Maison-Fleur  (M.  de),  91,  97,  300. 

Marguerite  de  Valois,  Queen  of 
Navarre,  sister  of  Francois  I.,  wife 
of  Henri  d'Albret,  King  of  Navarre, 
grandmother  of  Henri  IV.,  234 ;  her 
poems,  235 ;  her  devotion  to  her 
brother,  237-240,  245,  249;  interest 
in  the  phenomenon  of  death,  242 ; 
her  "Nouvelles,"  242,  243,  244; 
Sainte-Beuve's  essay  on  her,  243- 
261 ;  her  learning  and  comprehension 
of  the  Renaissance,  244,  245 ;  her 
letters,  249 ;  Erasmus'  opinion  of  her, 
250,  251  ;  favours,  but  does  not  be- 
long to,  the  Religion,  251-255 ;  her 
writings,  the  Heptameron,  255-260 ; 
the  patron  of  the  Renaissance,  261  ; 
her  works,  303. 

Marguerite  de  France  (Madame), 
daughter  of  Francois  I.  and  Queen 
Claude,  wife  of  the  Due  de  Savoie, 
224-229. 

Marguerite,  Queen  of  France  and  of 
Navarre,  daughter  of  Henri  II.  and 
Catherine  de'  Medici,  wife  of  Henri 


r 


INDEX. 


307 


rv,,  Brantome  visits  her  at  the  Castle 
of  Usson  and  dedicates  his  work  to  her, 
19;  mention  of  her  in  his  will,  22; 
his  discourse,  152-193;  her  beauty 
and  style  of  dress,  153-163 ;  her  mind 
and  education,  164-166;  marriage  to 
Henri  IV.,  167 ;  Brantome's  argu- 
ment in  favour  of  the  Salic  law,  168- 
175;  difficulty  of  religion  between 
herself  and  her  husband,  176;  her 
dignity  and  sense  of  honour,  178- 
180;  retirement  in  the  Castle  of 
Usson,  183;  on  ill  terms  with  her 
brother  Henri  III.,  184;  her  beauti- 
ful dancing,  185  ;  her  liberality  and 
generosity,  186-190;  love  of  reading, 
191  ;  corresponds  with  Brantome, 
191;  Sainte-Beuve's  essay  on  her, 
1 93 ;  reasons  why  she  began  her 
Memoirs,  1 95 ;  faithfulness  to  the 
Catholic  religion,  195  ;  intimacy  with 
her  brother  d'Anjou,  Henri  III., 
196,  197;  her  love  for  Henri  Due  de 
Guise,  le  Balafre,  her  marriage  to 
Henri  IV.,  198;  the  Saint-Bartholo- 
mew, 201  ;  her  Memoirs,  202,  etc. ; 
anecdote  of  a  Princesse  de  Ligne, 
205 ;  friendship  with  her  brother, 
Due  d'Alen9on,  206 ;  her  letters, 
208;  her  life  at  Ugson,  209  ;  divorce 
from  Henri  IV.,  209,  210;  return  to 
Paris,  eccentricities,  appearance  at 
the  coronation  of  Marie  de'  Medici, 
210-212 ;  comparison  with  Marie 
Stuart,  213;  her  real  merit,  213, 
231. 
Marguerite  be  Lorraine,  wife  of 

the  Due  de  Joyense,  282,  283. 
Marie  b'Actriche,  wife  of  the  Em- 
peror Maximilian  II.,  291-293. 
Marib  d'Autrichb,  sister  of  the  Em- 
peror Charles  V.  and  wife  of  Louis, 
King  of  Hungary,  273-280. 
Marie  Stuart,  Queen  of  France  and 
Scotland,  her  parentage,  89 ;  youth- 
ful accomplishments  and  beauty,  90- 
93 ;   marriage   to   Fran9ois   II.,   and 
widowhood,  93,  94  ;  her  poem  on  her 
widowhood,  94-96, 294  ;  Charles  IX.'s 
love  for  her,  96 ;  returns  to  Scotland, 


Brantome  accompanies  her,  97-lGl  * 
marriage  to  Darnley,  101  ;  Bran- 
tome's  defence  of  her,  102 ;  her 
disasters,  103;  her  imprisonment  in 
England,  104;  her  death,  as  related 
to  Brantome  by  one  of  her  ladies 
there  present,  105-115;  Sainte- 
Beuve's  essay  on  Marie  Stuart  and 
summing  up  of  her  life,  121-136,  289 ; 
her  poem  on  her  widowhood,  transla- 
tion, 301. 

Mezerat  (Fran9oi3  Eudes  de),  his 
History  of  France,  his  picture  of 
Catherine  de'  Medici,  85. 

MiGNET  (Francois  Auguste),  his  in- 
valuable History  of  Marie  Stuart, 
121,  122,  136. 

MoLAND  (M.  Henri),  his  essay  on 
Brantome  used  in  the  introduction 
to  this  volume,  1. 

NiEi,  (M.),  librarian  to  Ministry  of  the 
Interior,  his  collection  of  original 
portraits  and  crayons  of  celebrated 
persons  of  the  16th  century,  86,  87. 

Patin  (Gui),  his  feelings  in  Saint. 
Denis  before  the  tomb  of  Louis  XIL 
and  Anne  de  Bretagne,  40,  41. 

Philip  IL  of  Spain,  138,  139,  142. 

Kenee  de  France  (Madame),  daugh- 
ter of  Louis  XII.  and  Anne  de  Bre- 
tagne, wife  of  the  Duke  of  Ferrara, 
220-223. 

RcEDEREK  (Comte),  his  Memoirs  on 
Polite  Society,  study  of  Louis  XII. 
and  Anne  de  Bretagne,  41-43. 

RoNSARD  (Pierre  de),  91,  124,  156, 
157,  160,  185,  224. 

Sainte-Beuve  (Charles- Augustin),  his 
remarks  on  Anne  de  Bretagne,  40- 
43 ;  his  estimate  of  Catherine  de' 
Medici,  85-88 ;  his  essay  on  Marie 
Stuart,  121-136;  on  Marguerite  de 
Navarre,  193-213;  oa  Marguerite  de 
Valois,  243-261. 

Salic  Law  (the),  Brantome's  argument 
about  it,  168-175. 


308 


INDEX. 


Tavannes  (Vicomte  de).  Memoirs,  136, 

■ViGNAUD  (M.  H.),  his  introduction 
to  Brantome's  "Vie  des  Dames 
ninstres "  used  in  the  introduc- 
tion to  this  volume,  1. 


Vincent  de  Paul  (Saint),  chaplain  to 
Queen  Marguerite  de  Kavarre,  212. 

YoLAND  DE  Fkancb  (Madame),  daugh- 
ter of  Charles  VII.  and  wife  of  the 
Due  de  Savoie,  214,  215. 


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